The Boys You Grow Into, & The Boys You Grow Out Of
by jellyjulie
Summary: Spoilt but beautiful Lily Evans and mysterious golden boy James Potter clash instantly when they are made the new Heads of Hogwarts, but what happens when their physical relationship develops a lot faster than their friendship? LE-centric, GWTW inspired.
1. You Know I'm No Good

**You Know I'm No Good**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of JKR's original characters, nor do I own or claim in any way the characters of Margaret Mitchell's _Gone With the Wind_ they are aligned with. I'm not making any money from this, so if you've got a problem, get over it.

**A/N:** (First up: my apologies to the tl;dr crowd.) This story was written by me, and for me, but I've decided to share it with you.

I'm not trying to sound stuck up in this saying this, or anything; I've just grown sick of reading the same storylines and stereotypical characters seen in many (unnamed) fanfictions - I'm not even excluding my own previous story from this group, either. But I'm sure you know what I mean: the now-cliched Bookworm!Lily and Immature!Jameswho is forced to change his entire person in order to be given a chance by the girl of his dreams. It's been done. So I wanted to do something different.

Two ideas have inspired me. The first was the thought of switching Lily and James' most common archetypes: James now being the more mature, mysterious golden boy and Lily being a spoilt, slightly immature but beautiful and charming girl. This led me to draw comparisons with one of my favourite novels, _Gone With the Wind, _which has thus inspired (but not restricted) the premise of this fanfiction.

The second involved the idea of their physical relationship maturing before their emotional one, and the effect this would have on their characters individually. Not dissimilar to some of my favourite fanfics (I'm sure you've read them too!), I loved the potential this had for angotism, teasing and a rather hot storyline. (You get my point.)

So I've attempted to combine the two here, in this story. It's been a long time since I (finally) finished writing my first story, but to be honest, when I thought of this plotline... I just couldn't resist. I hope you can't either.

(One last thing - I've included a couple of shout-outs, or inside jokes, to the HP films and books, and also to other movies/tv shows/novels throughout the story; see if you can spot them.)

* * *

Lily Evans stared out the window of the moving car, sighing. Fiercely independent, she had despised being chauffeured anywhere ever since she had received her driver's permit. Her father had _in-sis-ted_ that she not drive herself to the train station, despite her persistent and increasingly irate protests.

"What would you do with your car when you got there? The bloody thing'd be towed before you even started your first class," he argued, quite reasonably.

To which she'd had no answer, of course. But really, one of the house staff could've come and picked it up, couldn't they? Was that so hard? Lily frowned, still slightly angry, as the tall buildings of London whizzed past: slick, modern sky-scrapers contrasting with those edifices now centuries-old in design and make. Her father could be _so_ unreasonable sometimes. But then, she reasoned, being one of the most wealthy and high-powered men in the country could do that to a person.

She was jolted out of her reverie by the stopping of the car.

"We have arrived, Miss Evans," came the slow, deep voice of her driver, Damien. King's Cross Station loomed to her left. She stepped out the car as Damien opened the door of the black limousine for her, one long leg after the other. She stood for a moment, steadying herself on her heeled black boots, watching as people flitted in and out of the entrance to the busy station.

"Miss Evans?" said Damien, gesturing at the LV trunk handle in his hand; the luggage had been commissioned by her father from the design house upon her acceptance to Hogwarts, and bore her name in scripted gold letters: _Lily Madison Evans_. She looked up at him, slightly confused, before remembering herself and taking the trunk from him, it's wheels clattering loudly over the cobblestones. He knew she insisted on entering the station herself, and had done ever since her second year at her Swiss boarding school. Damien wondered vaguely (not for the first time) why the young woman didn't prefer to fly direct - after all, her father did hold a decent stake in a major airline - but it wasn't his place to ask.

Lily still hadn't moved from her place beside him, her expression slightly clouded and somewhat apprehensive. "Are you okay, Lily?" he asked her, dropping his voice as a rowdy group of young men wearing rather peculiar hats passed by them with trunks like her own.

Lily bristled. "Of course," she stated, her expression clearing and her shoulders going back instinctively, before she softened a little. "It's just…" she hesitated. "It's my last year. It feels sort of… weird."

Damien smiled. "Just enjoy every minute of it," he told her, his voice reassuring and encouraging.

She turned and looked at him now: her expression cleared, her eyes brightened, and, slowly spreading across her face, it appeared – the smile that caused any male within vicinity to melt, give in or become entranced, depending on his age and relation to her. It was the smile that had afforded her several ponies, a small Caribbean island and, most recently, the purchase of her brand new, black Lamborghini Gallardo – her very first car. Christophé Evans could be forgiven indulging his daughter's every wish when one saw how Lily's extraordinary emerald eyes sparkled with happiness, as they did now.

"Could you ever imagine me not?" she asked him, one well-groomed eyebrow arching slightly. She laughed – almost a child's laugh; sweet, uninhibited and pleasing to the ears. Damien grinned and shook his head slightly, saying nothing. They bade each other a quick goodbye, and, after a hug and a promise to write, Lily waved and made her way toward the hubbub of King Cross' crowded platforms.

Lily felt the familiar mix of sickening apprehension and rollicking excitement as she spotted the barrier that acted as the gateway to Platform Nine & Three-Quarters. She swallowed a grin and, with a deep breath, pulled her trunk behind her as she stepped through to the magical world beyond.

Instantly, her senses were assaulted. Colours exploded in front of her eyes, children shouted from all directions, the train blew smoke everywhere. She couldn't suppress her smile this time, her eyes positively glittering.

"Lily!" She heard a shout behind her. She whirled around, only to be practically knocked to the ground by a blonde blur.

"Ally!" she choked out, grabbing at the back of her neck. The maniacal squeeze the girl had embraced her with relaxed, and a sheepish face came into view.

"Sorry," said Ally, laughing. "I just missed you – where have you _been _all summer?"

Lily laughed too, now able to properly breathe again. "I told you," she said, smiling and shaking her head. "We moved house. And we had a _lot_ of stuff to move." Lily didn't feel even a tad guilty about lying to her best friend's face. When you'd had as much practice as she did, one soon lost any uncomfortable feelings about doing so.

"Yes, but you have, like, a bazillion maids to help you with stuff like that," continued Ally impatiently. "Surely it didn't take you all summer?"

"You know me, Al," smiled Lily, undaunted, "I would never let anyone touch my vintage Dior."

"Well, you have to get better at replying to my owls," insisted the blonde girl indignantly. "You're lucky I didn't send a Howler!"

"Somehow, I don't think that would have gone down too well with the house staff," giggled Lily. "I already had to tell them that your owl was taught to deliver messages by your father, who trains animals for movies professionally… then they realized that it was more than one bird delivering the mail! Luckily, Dad just fires them if anyone gets too suspicious," she stated unconcernedly.

At that moment, a tall boy slung his well-toned arm over her shoulder, dark tresses flopping over his indifferently-handsome face. "Hey girl," he said with a grin, his deep voice gruffer than she'd remembered.

"Sirius!" she cried, throwing her arms around him and smiling hugely. "How was your summer?"

"Great," he told her, now hugging Ally, "my parents kicked me out. Best thing they ever did for me."

Lily laughed. "Oh, really?"

"Of course," said Sirius, in his usual confident way. "Ended up kicking it with Pron- I mean, James, all summer, at his place."

"Huh," said Lily, musing this interesting development. "Well, it's their loss," she stated, sticking her chin out defiantly.

He grinned at her, an arm around each of the two girls. "I definitely missed you this summer, Lil," he told her, and she laughed again, pushing against his shoulder affectionately as they walked towards the train.

The students of Hogwarts gathered aboard the train as the conductor blew the whistles, shouting goodbyes to parents and siblings, grabbing last minute items and catching up with friends after a summer apart. Lily, Sirius and Ally made their way down the crowded corridors, trunks already stored in the designated luggage compartment.

"So what about your summers?" The tall boy asked them, his eyes flittering after a sixth-year brunette who walked past in a _very_ short skirt. Lily followed his eyeline and laughed.

"Sure you're really interested?" she asked of her male – but certainly _not_ 'boy' – friend, eyebrows raised, with a teasing smirk.

Sirius shrugged, smiling unapologetically. "Alas, as neither of you gorgeous ladies will deign to indulge me, I must look for my pleasures elsewhere."

Lily grinned as Ally scoffed knowingly beside her. Sirius was notorious around the school as the ultimate ladies' man – harder to keep than catching smoke with your bare hands.

"_My_ summer was particularly boring," continued Ally, "as all of my _supposed_ friends were either busy or unresponsive." She pulled a face at Lily, whose eyes widened immediately in feigned innocence, an almost instinctive reaction to such an accusation – in her case, anyway.

"I'm going to assume that was aimed at you, Lily, despite Ally's impressive subtlety," said Sirius. His eyebrows rose with curiosity. "What kept you so preoccupied?"

"We moved house," said Lily, falling back on the same excuse she had used on her best friend. "And," she said impressively, "my dad caved."

Ally's mouth fell open in shock. "You mean he actually bought it for you?" Lily nodded, eyes twinkling with amusement and the thrill of triumph. "My God, does he ever say no? I wish _my_ dad would let me get one..."

"Bought what?" asked Sirius, confused.

"A brand new, top of the range Lamborghini Gallardo," Ally informed him.

Sirius paused, still confused. "Bought _what?"_ he asked again.

"Picture the new RocketRacer 1000," explained Ally, "and multiply it by ten - in terms of price, danger - and general awesomeness."

Sirius considered this. "Nice," he concurred, after a moment. "I should get one of those."

"No, I see you as more of a motorcycle kind of guy," mused Lily, smiling. "Although he bought me a RocketRacer too." She grinned at the stunned look on Ally's face, who was about to burst with envy, when –

"Here we are," interrupted Sirius, as they stopped outside a door. Lily giggled at the look on Ally's face one last time before stepping inside the compartment.

She was slightly surprised to see people already sitting inside the enlarged compartment; she had felt so happy to be back in the presence of her best friends that she'd not noticed anyone missing. Now inside, glancing at the familiar faces around her, she wondered how she could've glossed over their absence.

"Remus," she said happily, as a young man with sandy brown hair and blue eyes stood to hugher. As he pulled back after their embrace, she observed him at arm's length: "You look good," she told him genuinely.

He glowed visibly at the comment, his eyes roaming her happy face. "Never as good as you, Lily dear," he said, smiling widely, "as I'm sure most of the males of the school will attest." She blushed prettily, on cue.

Behind her, a throat was cleared noisily. "May we join those of you lucky enough to be inside the compartment already?" came Sirius' dry voice, jokingly. Lily rolled her eyes, pulling the other two in behind her. Sirius and Remus slapped hands and gruffly thumped each other's backs, Ally and Remus hugged, and Lily moved over to embrace their Ravenclaw friend Frank Longbottom. Lily stepped back, out of the way, in order for Ally and Frank to hug tentatively, both blushing furiously.

"Hey, Alice," she heard Frank say quietly to her best friend, who mumbled a reply and took the seat next to him. Lily restrained herself from rolling her eyes once more –Ally could be more than a little pathetic when it came to guys, and most especially when it came to the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, heir to the extensive Longbottom Herbologistics retail empire and most likely candidate for the position of Head Boy for their seventh and final year.

Lily began to sit down on the seat nearest the window, feeling for the arm rest behind her, when –

"Do you mind?" came a voice behind her. Lily jumped and spun around, her hand still on the arm rest. Or, what she had thought was the arm rest…

"Lily, stop feeling the boy up," chortled Sirius, indicating where her hand had come to rest _on the guy's leg._ She didn't even recognize him. Wrenching her hand back as though burned, she laughed uneasily along with the others as the boy in question looked at her quizzically, eyebrows raised.

"I had no idea you were quite so – er – _keen_, Evans," stated the boy, a tattered copy of _Gone With the Wind_ in his hand.

"You wish, Jamesie," grinned Sirius. "Lily here was just checking you were still male. All that sitting on a broom, you know."

Of course. It was Potter. She'd never understood him, despite him being Sirius' best friend, and so – for the most part – had kept her distance. She recovered herself, straightening her shoulders and stepping away. "Unfortunately for you, Potter," she said coolly, though she surprised even herself as she heard the somewhat flirtatious tone in her voice.

Taking a seat next to Ally and diagonally across from James, she mused over the incident in her head. He'd lost those glasses he used to wear – no wonder she hadn't recognized him. He looked taller, too, she thought, now several inches taller even than her, despite Lily standing at 5'10". Other than that, however, James Potter remained a mystery to her, though she (like everyone in Hogwarts, and indeed, the wizarding world) knew of his background. Wealthy, good looking, and with a pureblood family that predated the Ministry of Magic, James Potter was wizarding royalty. His family's history rivaled that of the Kennedy's of America, in terms of tragedy and politics both. Many branches of the Potter tree had met untimely ends while others had climbed the heights of the Ministry. And now his father had been elected the new Minister for Magic over the summer, she recalled. Well. That would be interesting.

James Potter himself, though, was something of an anomaly. Though Lily's group of friends tended to be among the most well-off, well-connected and well-known students at Hogwarts – even children from all-magical families had heard of her father – James was perhaps the pinnacle. His grades frequently topped the year, though he rarely studied; he was lead chaser of his Quidditch team, but not obsessed with it in the same way Sirius (or even Frank) was; he was among the best-looking guys currently attending their school, and yet he never flaunted it, nor did he seem to treat females as disposable pleasures. Favoured by the teachers, adored by the girls, and respected by his fellow male students, James Potter was a close to perfect as it got. So what the hell was wrong with him?

If the truth was to be told, however, James and Lily were, in many ways, quite similar. Lily had always been given everything her heart desired – toys, clothes, lavish holidays, exotic animals, extravagant birthday parties and meals. Her mother's death in Lily's fourth year of life had affected her father deeply, prompting him to hold on to his daughters the only way he knew how: by granting their every wish in an attempt to buy their love. He needn't have done so, as Lily knew she'd love her father regardless of what Christophé held in his back account, but she wasn't going to pretend she didn't necessarily use it to her advantage occasionally… Like this summer, when Lily's eight-years-older sister Petunia had gotten married. Lily's father had been trying, unsuccessfully, to persuade his daughter to settle with a much-safer Range Rover for ordinary use and a Bentley Continental convertible for weekends. In the middle of a fit of his abandonment issues (somewhere between the rehearsal dinner and giving Petunia away to that fat lard, Vernon Dursley), Lily had persuaded Christophé to purchase the Lamborghini at last.

(She'd still gotten the Range Rover.)

Naturally, this sort of treatment led to the young Lily Evans becoming _slightly_ – shall we say – spoilt. Utterly uncompromising and entirely used to getting her way (not unlike her father - when it came to anyone other than his daughters), Lily had struggled with her redhead's temper throughout primary school, until, at the age of ten, she learnt that one could typically catch more flies with honey than vinegar. (Not to mention, she finally understood the effect her smile had on all males, not just her father.) So Lily went from tiny terror to the school's sweetheart, all the while still getting exactly what she wanted.

And then she'd received her letter from Hogwarts.

Well, what a shock that had been. Her normally rather-absentee father took an entire week off work in order to adjust to the news that his baby girl was, in fact, a witch, and a rather advanced one at that. Upon arriving at the school, Lily had discovered that magic came quite easily to her, almost similar to coaxing the desired response from her father and teachers. If she asked the magic within her _nicely_, spells were no trouble at all. One time, however, in her first year, her frustration with a spell that absolutely _refused_ to work for her led to her setting the entire Charms classroom ablaze: it was rather a shock for poor Professor Flitwick to see the Gryffindor wonder girl shrieking furiously at the innocent feather, which lay stubbornly on the desk in front of her, as the rest of her classmates ran from the scorching room, terrified.

Lily was not conventionally beautiful, but ever since her thirteenth birthday, something in the juxtaposition of her innocent-looking pale skin and dangerously intense green eyes had seemed to draw members of the opposite sex to her in droves. Tall and slim, Lily's looks were enhanced by the incredibly-vivid red of her long, wavy hair which fell halfway down her back. Her charm, looks and intelligence combined to make her a formidable weapon, and she was well-known for her unattainable stature.

She looked up suddenly as she noticed a pair of eyes watching her: Potter, looking at Lily somewhat interestedly. She frowned slightly, but he simply flicked his eyes back to his open book unapologetically, an amused smile playing lightly across his mouth. She tore her eyes away from his rather soft-looking lips – why was she even staring like that? She shook herself slightly – as the food trolley rolled past, clattering in the aisle. Sirius was already up and ordering half of its contents. She'd once asked him where he put it all, as Quidditch was hardly strenuous exercise, and his response, dripping with innuendo, had highlighted the epitome of Sirius Black: "Three words: extra-curricular activities."

She stood behind him, stretching onto her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder at the contents of the cart. "Get me a packet of Beans," she said, and he nodded nonchalantly, adding it to the list he was giving to the witch who wheeled the trolley.

"So Frank," said Lily, sitting back down, "did you make Head Boy? Or were those really snowflakes Sirius spotted on his last trip down to hell?"

Sirius looked up with a quick grin as he tore open a packet of Chocolate Frogs with his teeth. Frank laughed, catching a Frog with his Keeper's reflexes as Sirius pelted them around the compartment (Remus threw his back at Sirius's forehead).

"Didn't you hear?" said Frank, looking at her quizzically, tearing the foil of his chocolate. "They haven't decided on the new Heads yet."

"Of course she didn't," laughed Ally. "She hasn't been in contact with anyone all summer!" This wasn't strictly true, of course, but Lily wasn't about to correct her. "Too busy making sure the movers didn't incorrectly box her Jimmy Choos. I bet she hasn't even opened a copy of the _Prophet_."

"I told you, we can't have too many owls flying into the manor," argued Lily. "It looks suspicious. Not to mention weird."

"Then you can't have heard much about this Voldemort wanker," stated Sirius, looked surprised. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Lily just looked confused. The faces around her had darkened at the mention of the name. "Volde-who?" she asked, frowning. "I remember someone with a name like that was supposed to be the perpetrator of that muggle killing at the end of sixth year, wasn't he? I thought they caught him?"

"Nah, that was just a rumour," said Frank, interjecting. "Truth is, this guy's too big – too powerful – to be held in a prison – even Azkaban. They're saying he's just as powerful as Grindelwald was, if not more."

She remembered from History of Magic the name Grindelwald: the Dark wizard Dumbledore had defeated in 1945, some of whose attacks on muggles had been blamed on Hitler and the Axis' Powers during World War II. "What's he been doing?" she asked.

"More muggle killings," said Ally, more quietly than the other two. A slight haunted look flitted across her normally pretty features. "They say he does it for fun, for sport. He and his followers. To them, muggles are just like animals."

"There was a big attack on this little wizarding village further north, Ottery St. Catchpole," went on Sirius. "A bunch of fairly prominent wizarding families were hit – the Prewetts, the Weasleys, the Lovegoods…"

"Yeah, Gideon and Fabian Prewett – you know, the famous Aurors? – were killed," said Frank, looking solemn. "They were pretty good family friends of ours. My dad took it pretty hard. He says..." He paused, looking as if he were wondering if he should go on. "He says there's a war coming."

They were all silent for a moment. Suddenly, the excitement in Lily's stomach was outweighed by a growing anxiety – and fear. A war? Next year they would be on their own, out in the real world, unprotected by the high walls of Hogwarts Castle and the calm gaze of their powerful Headmaster. Lily still had no idea what she wanted to do, 'when she grew up'. And with all the turmoil that was apparently imminent in the wizarding world… she sighed quietly to herself, attempting to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine. _I'll think about it later._

The time seemed to crawl by. Lily dozed in and out of the conversations in their compartment, jerking awake every now and then with the jarring movements of the train. As glad as she was to be going back to Hogwarts – to be going home – she couldn't deny the dangers currently inherent within the wizarding world, and her stomach remained a little clenched throughout the journey. Hours later, it seemed, a particularly nasty bump rattled throughout the compartment, jolting her awake. Yawning a little, she stretched and sat up, her Ramones t-shirt riding up a little underneath her trench coat. Ally and Frank were still chatting quietly, but everyone else seemed to be dozing too. She reached forward and grabbed at Sirius' wrist, checking his watch as he slept on without noticing her.

"We're almost there," announced Lily, shaking Sirius awake. "We should probably get changed."

Remus and James awoke too, yawning as they filed out of the compartment behind Frank and Sirius to let the girls change.

"Merlin, I'm tired," said Ally, fighting back a yawn with a grimace.

"Too much chatting, then?" suggested Lily with a smirk. Ally threw her just-pulled-off sweater at her, and Lily batted it down with one hand easily, grinning.

She pulled off her knee-high boots, her black jeans following quickly. As Lily reached inside her bag to grab her pleated grey school skirt, a piece of parchment came loose, fluttering to the other side of the compartment before she could grab it.

"What's this?" asked Ally, picking it up quickly and frowning at it. She seemed to notice the sender's name, for she went on, "Who's Travis? Not Travis Vance?"

"It's nothing," said Lily hastily, trying to grab it from her friend, but Ally moved it out of her reach of her prying fingers. "Give it _here, _Ally-"

"So you weren't too busy to write this summer," said Ally, looking angry, "just too busy to write anyone but this Travis guy?" Before Lily could stop her, she had peered into Lily's bag, where – sure enough – a particularly abundant stack of Travis' letters was stashed, his neat handwriting obvious on each slip of parchment.

Lily finally snatched his letter from the other girl, stuffing it back in her bag. She hurriedly pulled on her Gryffindor sweater and snapped, "It's none of your business, Ally!" Lily seized her bag, tugging it over her shoulder, and swept from the compartment, almost running headlong into the boys waiting impatiently outside.

"What took so long, Evans?" asked Sirius, grinning, with all of his usual tact. She forced a smile in return, gripping her bag a little tighter.

"I'd like to see you try to put on tights with the train is moving like this," she challenged him. At that moment, the door slid open and Ally entered the corridor, still glaring at Lily. The boys seemed to sense the rather prickly mood in the air, for they muttered something about their robes and hastened for the safety of the compartment.

Lily and Ally stood in silence as Lily pulled on her black robes and scarlet-and-gold tie, being extra careful to make sure that, this time, Travis' letters stayed in her bag. Ally pursed her lips as she brushed her hair, as though restraining herself from speaking.

"Why didn't you tell me about him?" she burst out, a hurt look in her eyes as Lily turned to face her best friend. "I mean…" she faltered, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger absentmindedly. "You didn't even say-"

"I wanted to," said Lily cautiously. "But it just felt – I don't know… sort of like, if I said it out loud, he'd stop writing." She looked up, semi-abashedly. The truth was, Lily hadn't _wanted_ to tell anyone; she'd kept the knowledge of their correspondence a secret, hugging it to herself as though it were keeping her warm. "I really am sorry I didn't write more," she went on. "I was just so caught up in it all, I didn't even think-"

"I forgive you," said Ally, smiling. "I'm pretty sure I know what that feels like." She gestured to the compartment, to where Frank was now changing. Lily giggled and smiled back, moving forward to wrap her friend in a hug. Sirius stuck his head out of the compartment door, looking relieved at the affable scene he was greeted by.

"Oh, good," he said, opening the door fully. "We'll let you back in then."

* * *

The remainder of their journey to Hogwarts passed quickly, with the group postulating enthusiastically on what they could expect from Seventh Year.

"I've heard that you have to battle a troll for the Defence NEWT," said Remus, rather alarming Lily, just as the train began to slow down.

"No, it's a banshee," Sirius claimed, correcting him, and proceeding to perform an unfortunately rather accurate impression of the creature. Lily threw an Every-Flavour Bean at him.

"I can't wait to have first pick of the seats by the fire," said Ally, shivering a little as she reminisced about the cozy Gryffindor common room and its comfortable armchairs.

The train came to a jarring holt. Ecstatic to be back at Hogwarts, and away from the persistent rocking of the train, Lily was the first one out of the compartment and on the platform, quickly clambering into one of the horseless carriages. Ally and Sirius joined her (Lily didn't miss the forlorn look on Ally's face as Frank, James and Remus climbed into the carriage next to them), both still chattering on about the feast and how hungry they were. Lily leaned against the small window, her eyes searching hungrily for her first sight of the castle in three months. And there it was – silhouetted against the sky, dark and beautiful, the light of the moon highlighting its enigmatic presence. She smiled. She was home.

* * *

As their Headmaster got to his feet in front of them, the chatter filling the Great Hall fell into a hushed silence. "Welcome, welcome," said Dumbledore, spreading his arms wide as though embracing them all, "to another year at Hogwarts." His eyes twinkled as he surveyed them all. "Let us hope that this year will be filled once more with enthusiastic learning, delicious food and the odd bit of mischief." Lily, out of the corner of her eye, saw James and Sirius exchange quiet grins.

"Now, before we begin our most excellent feast, I have an announcement to make. In light of recent trying times…" Dumbledore seemed to hesitate, and many students swapped anxious looks, knowing exactly what he was referring to, "The school has yet to come to a decision on the appointments for Head Boy and Girl this year. As such, we will be making the announcement for these positions this coming Sunday night at dinner, so please be present." He smile broadened, and he clapped his hands together. "Now, I see no more reason to delay you from enjoying the first delightful meal of many, so let the feast begin!"

Mouth-watering piles of food appeared instantly on the golden platters in front of them: roasts, vegetables, delicious sides and tall, icy jugs of pumpkin juice. Lily couldn't help but lick her lips, thinking that Mario, their chef at the mansion, could definitely learn something from the Hogwarts house elves. Helping herself to a bit of everything, Lily almost sighed with happiness as she took her first bite of roast beef, listening as the conversation around her centered on the Head positions.

"It'll be Frank for sure," she heard Sirius tell their crowded table, "and for the Head Girl-"

"It better not be that cow, Marjorie Johnson," interjected Ally, looking appalled. "How she ever made Hufflepuff, I don't know. That girl is nastier than morning breath."

Lily giggled, catching a glimpse of Marjorie, who was smirking widely from where she sat at the yellow-and-black adorned table; other Hufflepuffs were clapping her on the back as though she'd already been appointed Head Girl. She rolled her eyes; Lily and Marjorie had had a rather hostile relationship ever since Lily had scorched the dark-haired girl's eyebrow from her face during that unfortunate Charms incident in first year. Marjorie had complained so loud, and for so long, that Lily felt no need to apologise to the other girl; thus, a mutual enmity was born.

"You're right," agreed Lily, screwing up her nose. "If she gets to be Head Girl, I'll lose all the respect I have for the teachers of Hogwarts."

"Of what little you have for them, you mean," came a quiet voice to her left; James Potter, sitting across from Ally, was staring at Lily intently, amusement clearly evident in his eyes. Lily's eyebrows rose in shock; she sat there, momentarily stunned. Didn't he know that Lily was considered one of the most courteous students in Hogwarts by the teachers, always willing to help out without being asked? She opened her mouth to make a brusque retort –

"Excellent, treacle tart!" interjected Sirius, reaching across her to grab the serving spoon as the desserts appeared on the table suddenly, and breaking Lily and James' eye contact. She seethed a second longer, before tossing her long hair over her shoulder impetuously and deciding to forget about it. This Potter obviously had her confused with someone else, that was all. He didn't know her from a bar of soap – who was he to make such damning judgments on her character?

She stayed quiet for the remainder of the feast, playing disinterestedly with the apple pie on her plate. She looked up once, catching James looking at her again. What was _with_ this guy? She glared at him, looking quickly back down at her plate, and as soon as the feast was over, dragged Ally away from the guys in order to beat a quick path back to Gryffindor Tower.

"God, that James Potter is such a loser," she snapped viciously, as soon as they were out of earshot of the first years. Her stride remained brisk and Ally struggled to keep up.

"What?" asked Ally, panting a little and looking surprised. "I didn't think you had ever even spoken to him before!"

"I haven't," she snapped. "He's just a know-it-all prat, that's all." They had arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, resplendent in pink as ever. Lily couldn't help but let out a smile, and Ally looked relieved.

"Spellotape," said Lily, and the Fat Lady swung open.

The common room was noisy and excited with the greetings and gossip being exchanged. As they walked in, Lily noticed a group of tall boys who had already commandeered the best spots near the fire - boys who looked an awful lot like –

"What are you lot doing up here?" demanded Lily as she strode over to where Sirius, Remus and James sat, talking and laughing. Sirius stuffed a piece of parchment hastily in his pocket.

"Well, you know, we do live here," commented Remus, amusedly. Sirius just laughed as Lily spluttered indignantly.

"Secret passageway, Lily dear," he informed them, grinning at James as he leant back into the armchair, hands resting behind his head. She eyed the boys warily, before a reluctant smile escaped her lips.

"Fine," she said, plopping down next to Remus, "but one day, one of you is showing me these famed 'secret passageways'!" Next to her, Ally nodded, laughing too.

"One day," agreed James, looking at her. There was something in his gaze that made her shiver a little, involuntarily. Lily frowned to herself. Maybe she was more tired than she'd thought. Sirius, meanwhile, had started to tell them a story involving a cat, a swimming pool and a barrel of Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks from he and James' holidays.

"I think I might go to bed, then," she interrupted, standing and stretching.

"Okay," said Ally, barely glancing at her, "I just want to hear the end of this story and then I'll be right up…"

Lily bade them all goodnight, making the journey alone up the girl's staircase, now heading all the way to the top. The distance seemed to be a metaphor for how hard their final year of school would be, and – judging from what she'd heard from previous seventh years – it was spot on. Finally reaching the top, Lily pulled on her pyjamas, with a yawn. A piece of parchment fell from her bag as she dug around, feeling for her toothbrush, for the second time that day: another bundle of letters from Travis. Suddenly, looking at his orderly cursive, she felt wide awake.

She clambered onto her four-poster, shutting the curtains around the bed even though none of the other girls in the dorm she and Ally lived in were currently present. Illuminating her wand, she settled into her comfy bed and began to read, heart fluttering happily:

_Dear Tiger-Lily,_

_How wonderful it is to hear from you again! I returned home on Monday evening from my travels and, Lily – it was the most extraordinary year of my life. I visited everywhere from Salem, America to Berribea, the tiny island wizarding colony in the Bahamas. The history I've learnt, the people I've meant… you should definitely think about doing to the Grand Tour upon your own graduation from Hogwarts; they say Dumbledore himself once intended to undertake such travels! _

_Father is having a homecoming celebration in my honour next weekend. You'll come, won't you? It will be lovely to hear all about your sixth year and see your smiling face. Father says – _

She shuffled the letters along, thinking dreamily of that fabled weekend when she'd been reunited with Travis. Only her third weekend out of Hogwarts for the summer, she, Petunia, Vernon and Christophé had made their way to Vance Manor in Abergavenny, the sun beating down on the warm grounds where the party was being held. They had been greeted excitedly by Travis' little brother, a soon-to-be Hogwarts student named Jacques – affectionately known as 'Jack' by all who met him – who dragged Lily immediately over to where his older sibling stood.

"Tiger-Lily!" Travis had cried in delight when he'd seen her, using the pet name only he referred to her be. She smiled, her wide, beautiful smile, eyes sparkling as he opened his arms wide to hug her.

Every time she read one of his letters, she saw his smile, his blue eyes, his wavy blonde hair falling across his perfect face… Lily sighed to herself, picking up another letter.

_Tiger-Lily,_

_How are you? I hope all is well as you prepare to head back to Hogwarts for your final year. It definitely sounds like you'll be having a good time, if those stories you told me about last year are any indication! That Sirius Black sounds like a real prankster, and your friend Ally must be a sweetheart. _

_This week, Emmeline and I are –_

Lily felt herself draw a sharp intake of breath. Her stomach flipped as she read the other girl's name, reminding her of the feeling she'd gotten when Travis had first introduced her, at his coming-home party, to Emmeline Hamilton…

"Lily, I'd like you to meet Emmeline," said Travis, drawing a girl of his age, with light-brown hair and hazel eyes, into their conversation.

Instantly, Lily's guard was up and her jealousy spiked. She couldn't help but notice the intimacy apparent between the two; the way his hand lingered on Emmeline's back. Her eyes flicked uncertainly to Travis' smile momentarily, before she remembered herself.

Plastering a smile on her face, Lily extended her hand. "It's lovely to meet you, Emily," she said, as sweetly as possible. She couldn't help noticing that the girl's face was rather weak-looking.

Emmeline simply smiled, shaking Lily's hand politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Lily," she said. "Travis has told me all about you. And it's Emmeline, actually, Emmeline Hamilton."

"He has, has he?" asked Lily, looking playfully at the boy standing between them; an attempt to mark her territory. "Well, I've always had a bit of a soft spot where Travis Vance is concerned, so I'll let that one slide. He hasn't said much about yourself, though," she couldn't resist adding. "How do the two of you know each other?"

Travis seemed to give her an odd look. "Lily," he said, glancing at the other girl, "Emmeline is my girlfriend."

"We've been together for almost a year now," smiled Emmeline, apparently not noticing anything. "It'll be our one-year anniversary on Tuesday."

"But it's nothing serious, of course," said Travis with a grin, as Emmeline elbowed him playfully.

Lily's smile faltered only temporarily, even as her stomach clenched painfully. "How lovely!" she exclaimed, a nerve twitching above her left eye. She pretended to notice something over Emmeline's shoulder. "Oh, please excuse me – I've just seen – could be important…" she backed away from the couple, a lump growing larger in her throat. "It was lovely to meet you, though!" Lily said, the sincerity all but vanished from her voice as she dashed towards the main house.

And then she'd cried in the bathroom for an hour.

She shuffled through the letters again, thinking back to that day; definitely not her finest moment. When she'd finally been able to recollect herself and emerge from the ladies, Lily had marched down to where Christophé stood, chatting to a messy, grey-haired man she didn't recognize, and demanded they leave at once. And though he later remonstrated her actions, he had nonetheless obliged. (Vernon and Petunia had remained at the party, boring several unfortunate guests - both muggle and magical - stupid with their talk of wedding plans and drills.)

Lily had, however, in the time between the party and her departure for Hogwarts, come to the conclusion that she really didn't need to feel threatened by that mousy little Emmeline Hamilton, who was quite obviously nothing more than a passing fancy to Travis. It wasn't the right time, anyway, for Lily and Travis to be involved, not when they were at opposite sides of the country. Feeling slightly happier as she remembered this, Lily tucked the letters under her pillow, smiling to herself. After all, Emmeline had only known him for a year, whereas Lily had known Travis her whole life. And what girl could possibly compete with Lily Evans?

* * *

The first week of school passed quickly. The teachers weren't kidding when they said studying for NEWTS would be tough. Lily quickly found herself immersed in Amortentia potions, Protean charms and Pufflepop Pods, with barely enough time to even think about Travis. But sure enough, every night before she fell asleep, her thoughts turned to him – what he was doing ,who he was with; his eyes, his face, his hair. How she loved to hear him speak about the importance of Rowena Ravenclaw's magical discoveries to modern wizarding healing; he was so passionate, his eyes lighting up as he spoke…

Lily fell asleep thinking of him on Wednesday night, her exhausted brain falling easily into a deep sleep…

She dreamt that she was walking along a path, deep into the darkness of the Forbidden Forrest… she came into a clearing, and Travis stood there. He had her Charms book in front of him, and as he saw her, began ripping out the pages… she tried to stop him, she needed that book, but he just laughed and laughed, the ripped pages falling down around them like confetti… Lily had an eerie feeling they were being watched… she heard footsteps behind her –

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep!_

Lily awoke with a jolt, her breathing shallow. Grumpily, she grabbed her wand, laying on her bedside table, and silenced the mosquito-like buzzing coming from Ally's alarm clock with a lazy wave. She flopped back on her pillows, still feeling a little wound up. She often found dreams hard to shake, but this one… the feeling it had given her…

Lily told herself firmly to get over it. Reluctantly, she climbed out of her warm bed, shivering a little as her toes hit the cold stone floor. Walking into the bathroom, she used her wand to summon a clean towel, and flicked the magicked-radio on to her favourite Wireless Wizarding Network station, Spelling Beats. The newest tune by Wiz Fizz, a popular punk-pop band, was playing, and Lily bopped her head along to the music as she stepped into the nearest stall.

She emerged a quarter of an hour later, feeling refreshed and a good deal calmer. Maybe it would be a good day after all, she thought to herself, still humming as she picked out a shirt for the day.

"You seem to be in a good mood," commented Ally as she came over, fixing the tie around her neck.

"You know, I am in a good mood," said Lily, tying back her long locks with a thin white ribbon. "I think today might actually be a good day."

They made their way down to breakfast quite happily, bidding other students and teachers good morning as they passed.

"What have we got first?" Lily asked Ally as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table; she was still adjusting to their new schedule. Owls were fluttering down all around them, delivering mail.

"Transfiguration," said Ally, a little dejectedly, as she glanced down at their time table, "and then Herb-" She broke off, looking down the table. "I think someone's waving at you, Lily."

Lily looked to her left, instantly spotting a very enthusiastic Jack Vance, who seemed to have been trying desperately to get her attention. When he saw that she'd noticed him, he scrambled from his seat a dozen places up and ran over to where the two girls sat.

"Lily!" he said breathlessly, and she laughed at his jittery state, amused.

"Hello yourself, Jack," she said, smiling. "Are you okay?"

"I've got great news," he told her happily. "I've just got a letter from home – and Travis is getting married! To Emmeline! He asked her! And she said yes!"

Every exclamation point hit her like a thunderbolt; his words sent her reeling. "Wh-what?"

"Dad told me! Isn't wonderful, Lily?"

She didn't reply. She couldn't. Ally was watching her warily.

"Travis said that he was – say, are you okay, Lily?"

Still, she said nothing, just looked at the tiny boy in shock.

Ally came to her rescue. "I think she's just in shock, Jack," she told him, diverting his avid stare from Lily's frozen, horrified expression. "Isn't that just so exciting, though?"

"Totally," agreed Jack, nodding energetically. "I had to tell you, Lily, I knew you'd be just as excited as me! Well, I'd better go – I've got History of Magic first and Binns'll kill me if I'm late again…" He sped off, a happy grin still plastered on his face, evidently oblivious to the devastation he had left in his wake.

Lily's breathing was ragged. "Tell me," she croaked, just loud enough for Ally to hear, "tell me he didn't just say what I thought he did."

Ally let out a sigh. "Well, if you thought he said anything apart from the fact that Travis is apparently engaged-" Lily winced "-then no, he didn't."

Denial kicked in, effectively saving her from public humiliation. "He can't be engaged," she said stubbornly. "He just can't be. I don't believe it."

Ally, looking anxious, said quickly, "Maybe you should ask him, then. I mean, maybe – maybe Jack was wrong… or something…" her voice trailed off, but Lily seized on the idea to distract herself from her mounting panic.

"Yes," she said, breathlessly. "You're right! I'll just – just owl Travis, and he'll be able to tell me Jack made a mistake. Yes," she said again, her voice growing stronger. She turned to the fifth-year girl sitting next to her, whose barn owl was nibbling from the porridge bowl. "Can I borrow your owl? I just need to send a letter, not too far, only to Abergavanny… I really like your headband," she babbled.

The mousy-haired girl looked startled that Lily was even speaking to her, and (after her friend nudged her) simply nodded wordlessly, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Thanks," said Lily, seizing her Transfiguration note book from her bag and tearing a page from it haphazardly. He quill barely inked, she began to write messily across the parchment:

_Travis,_

_I heard that - _

She shook her head, scratching the words out. It was right to ask him, flat out like this, on paper; it was something she needed to ask in person. But the next Hogsmeade visit wasn't until October… Lily frowned. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her:

_Travis, _

_I need to talk to you about something. Can you arrange to speak to me tonight from the Gryffindor common room fireplace, via Floo Powder? Midnight should be late enough to guarantee we are alone. Please, it's important._

_Love, Lily_

She finished the letter with a flourish, rolling it carefully and placing it in the owl's grasp. Thanking the fifth year girl again, she watched, flushed with triumph and a healthy dose of skepticism at Jack's announcement, as the owl flew up, away and on to Travis.

* * *

Halfway through Transfiguration, however, it was a different story. They were working on a particularly complex enchantment that morning, one that required full concentration, but try as she might, Lily couldn't get Jack's news out of her head. _Nothing about it makes sense,_ she thought frustratedly, as the pouffe she was supposed to be changing into a poodle remained stubbornly fur-free.

"_Intranseo,"_ she said loudly, tapping the pouffe with her wand (she was all but whacking it, really). _"Intranseo. INTRANSEO." _But there was no change to its awful, dusty-pink velour finish. She sank down dejectedly on it, her chin in her hand as next to her, Ally's pouffe started to smoke.

"Is there a problem, Miss Evans?" came the crisp voice of Professor McGonagall, moving over to where Lily sat, incantations sounding off around them. She stood hurriedly.

"No, Professor," she said, trying to wipe the foul look from her face.

The witch eyed her a moment longer. Professor McGonagall had never really warmed to Lily as the other teachers had. "Good," said her teacher. "Then you will demonstrate your grasp of this technique for me."

Lily drew her wand, forcing herself to concentrate. _A poodle,_ she thought, trying to picture it in her mind, _fluffy, white, short… or were they tall?... a dog…_ She cleared her throat. _"Intranseo!"_ There was a _pop_ and the pouffe instantly grew four pink legs and tail, sniffing loudly from a nose Lily couldn't see. McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"And what will you be doing for homework, Miss Evans?"

"Practicing the spell, Professor," answered Lily dutifully, forcing a rueful smile. The teacher swept away over to where James, Sirius and Remus stood, talking quietly about something. Lily scowled. She'd be doing nothing of the sort. The pouffe-poodle yapped loudly out of its invisible mouth.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. She watched distractedly as McGonagall, who had seemed to be telling the trio off for talking, asked them to demonstrate the spell as she had Lily. Sirius managed to almost produce a whole poodle, but it was covered in white velvet instead of fur and a tassel hung from its head (which it promptly tried to bite off). Remus' attempt left his pouffe white, furry and inanimate, aside from a snout which appeared out of its side, a long tongue slithering out the side of it.

Just as James was about to perform the spell, he looked up and saw her watching. She felt her cheeks redden, but she straightened her shoulders and didn't look away. He smirked and, eyes glittering, waved his lazily, not even bothering to speak the incantation aloud, and transfigured his pouffe into a perfect poodle. It yapped loudly, attracting the attention of the rest of the class (who, like Lily, were similarly struggling). McGonagall raised her eyebrows again, but this time, she looked impressed.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," she said. Sirius and Remus low-fived each other inconspicuously. "Was that your first attempt, Potter?"

"Yes," said James, his tone almost bored.

The bell rang, bringing the class to an end. _Thank God,_ thought Lily, moving to leave hurriedly, but the pouffe-poodle had wound its way between her feet and she stumbled over it, almost landing flat on her face. As it was, her bag went flying, shattering ink bottles all over her books.

"Oh, perfect," she spat under her breath. She bent down, beginning to attempt to repair the damage. Feet wound their way around her, on their way to their next class; she refused several offers of help as politely as she could, telling Ally to go on ahead to the greenhouses without her.

"Are you okay, Miss Evans?" inquired Professor McGonagall, appearing at her side.

"I'm fine, Professor," Lily said, as sweetly as she could manage, "I'll just clean this up quickly and be on my way."

The Professor nodded, glancing at her watch. "Tell Professor Sprout you spoke to me about being late to class. Please lock the door on your way out."

Lily heard her footsteps fade out as the teacher merged with the crowds and noise in the corridor outside the room. She sighed, picking dejectedly through her ink-soaked schoolbooks. _So much for a good day_, she thought miserably.

* * *

She waited impatiently that night for the common room to empty. Midnight couldn't come quick enough; she tapped her fingernails repeatedly on the worn armrest of the squishy couch nearest the fire that she was seated on. Every once in a while, she threw a vicious glance at the third years across the room from her, who were playing a particularly violent and noisy game of Exploding Snap. Ally had left her long ago, retiring early to the seventh year Girls' dorm, as Lily's mood was exceptionally foul. Being a rather spoilt child, she had never learnt to handle rejection, impatience or refusal well, and tonight's conversation promised all three. Suffice to say, she had done some damage to the last few letters Travis had sent her – the natural reaction she'd had to the feather that refused to levitate in her first year had not dissipated as she'd (sort of) matured.

Around eleven-forty-five, the last stragglers, yawning and mumbling, went off to bed. Finally alone, Lily thought for the first real time that evening about what she was actually going to say to Travis. She couldn't just confront him about the rumour she'd heard (it was, of course, simply a rumour; there was no _way_ it could possibly be true); that would be entirely rude, and not to mention seem completely desperate. No, she would have to be her normal, charming self, wheedle the information she needed out of him, and resist her first impulse to rip his fiery eyeballs out of his Floo-Powdered head.

Suddenly, there came a quiet _pop_ from the fire place beside her. The ashes rose, becoming the face she so adored; its mouth fell open, and a small cough sounded.

Lily dropped to her knees in front of the fire. "Travis?" she asked, her heart thumping wildly. The ashen face seemed to smile up at her.

"Tiger-Lily," he said, looking pleased to see her. "How are you? Surviving seventh-year so far?"

"Yes," she replied uncaringly, not even hearing the question. She stared down at his face. All her planning, all her original intentions as to what to say to him when they eventually spoke, had gone out the window; now that he was here, in front of her (sort of), she could think of nothing but that _she had to know._

"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning slightly. His perfect blonde hair must have fallen over his eyes on the other end; in the fire, however, it looked as though part of his face had melted off – he looked simply ridiculous.

"Yes," she said again, just as breathlessly. "Travis, I – I heard that you were engaged," she told him in a strangled sort of voice.

His expression brightened visibly, and he looked up at her, glowing eerily in the light of the fire. Her stomach clenched painfully.

"Yes," he told her simply, "Isn't it amazing? I finally got the courage to ask Emmeline. And she said yes! We're planning to marry in the spring, before I begin my second round of Healer training. You'll be there, at the wedding, won't you Tiger-Lily? My father says-"

But his voice, his words, were lost on her; she could hear nothing but her own rattled breathing, feel only her heart plummeting, as happy his smile drove the cold, cruel knife of truth deeper into her stomach.

"But," she spluttered, interrupting his discourse on he and stupid, wishy-washy, _perfect_ Emmeline's ideas for their nuptials. "Travis… I thought…"

"Is something wrong, Lily?" Travis withdrew himself from visions of taffeta and roses, apparently noticing her rather obvious distress. "I thought you'd be happy for me. For both Emmeline and I."

She looked at him, somewhat appalled. "I thought you…" she choked back a sob, furious with herself. "I thought you and I…"

Travis looked startled, his eyes flashing wildly, like a trapped horse. "Lily," he began, his mouth opening and closing rapidly, "you can't seriously… Emmeline… we've been together for over a year…"

"You said it wasn't serious!" she exploded, tears pouring freely now. All rationality had fled from her mind. "I love you," she said, much more quietly, looking him straight in the eye.

"You don't," said Travis, beginning confidently, but faltering a little at the look on her face. This was definitely not the reaction she had envisaged receiving after proclaiming this to him. "Lily… we're friends, aren't we?" She sniffled, now suddenly captivated by the threadbare carpet beneath her bent knees. She would have been mortified at her uncharacteristic breakdown if she wasn't so heartbroken. "Just friends," he added firmly.

"No," she said. Lily couldn't believe she was going to pieces like this, right in front of him. She couldn't believe anything he had told her; voices swirled in her head… _Travis is getting married!… I thought you'd be happy for me… You'll be there, at the wedding, won't you?_

"No," she repeated. What was with her mono-syllabalism? She needed to tell him, tell him everything, _make _him change his mind. "I _know_ you love me. All those letters-"

"Were for my dear friend," said Travis firmly. "That's all." He softened a little. "Lily, it would never have worked between us. We're so different… you're so full of life, such energy – so vivacious. Emmeline and I – we're much more similar." Her quick sob seemed to alert him to the harshness of this last statement, and he made to correct himself speedily, despite looking like her wished he were any but in that fire grate.

"You would never be happy with me," he told her gently. "You'll find someone – someone else – who shares your same energy, one day. Your perfect fit."

"No one will ever mean as much to me as – as y-you," she hiccoughed, beyond consolation.

He smiled sadly at her, almost pityingly, and her expression contorted itself into an ugly scowl – she hated pity (which, thankfully, was rarely directed her way). Travis seemed to notice the fire in which his head sat flare suddenly, for he bade her a hasty goodbye and another awkward apology, which she ignored. The second he vanished from the grate, she threw her arms around her pyjama-clad knees, fresh sobs wracking her body.

A loud, scraping noise, like a chair being pushed across the stone floor, sounded behind her; she whirled around, heart in her throat, almost blind in the comparative darkness of the room to the glow of the fire. She managed to make out a tall figure walking toward her. Lily saw his smirk first.

"I thought you made a good argument," came James Potter's deep voice, slow and quiet.

Despite her initial shock at the discovery of his presence, and her tumultuous emotions post-heartbreak, she was instantly, consumingly furious. "How _dare _you listen to my – my private conversations-"

"Please," he said in a bored voice, raising his hand disinterestedly. "You're the one who didn't even bother to check if the common room was empty. You really need to step up your game. Although," he said, coming closer to where she sat, still and shocked, on the carpet, "you had me going. For a moment there, I thought you actually cared about this guy."

"I _do_," she protested furiously, unable to stop herself. She stood abruptly, chin lifted defiantly as she looked him dead in the eye. "It's really none of your business," she said, as haughtily as she could manage with her makeup down her face; she turned on her heel and stalked away from him, before he spoke again, stopping her in her tracks.

"He's right, you know," he said, unexpectedly. Lily felt the air suddenly expell itself from her chest. She whirled around again, staring at James in shock, as he went on, "You're completely wrong for him. I can't believe you were even stupid even to fall for him in the first place."

She almost gasped, just barely stopping herself. His statement was so frank, so bald – so _true_. How the hell would he know that? "You don't know him," she snapped. "Not like I do. And you don't know me, at _all._"

He smirked again, leaning easily against the wooden ledge above the fireplace. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked, outraged, unable to contain herself. She'd never met such an arrogant, presumptuous person in her entire life. Just who did this James Potter think he was? How could Sirius be _friends_ with this idiot?

"Just what I said," he claimed, stepping toward her, unflinching in the face of her obvious anger. In fact, he seemed more amused by it than anything else. "I bet most of the people in your life – and definitely most of the people at this school – have no idea what you're really like. Behind that little façade you've created, I mean." He stepped closer still. She could barely breathe. How dare he – who did he think… Her brain spluttered barely-intelligible insults, but her mouth was unable to move. She swallowed as he stopped in front of her, eyes freely roaming her entire person. Lily felt naked and vulnerable in such close proximity to him; she forced her anger to the surface in order to hide her apprehension and unstuck her jaw.

"For your information, _Potter,_" she snarled, her expression one of ugly, ferocious anger that very few people inside the castle had ever seen her wear, "you have no _idea_ what I'm like. What I'm capable of." But the threat sounded feeble, even to her.

He laughed, right in her face, and her rage almost engulfed her; how she longed to hit him, to cause _him_ pain. "I think I do, actually," he said slowly, self-assuredly. "You think you're _so _charming, with all your fake smiles and _kind _comments and helping the teachers without being asked… I can't believe no one else in this castle can see that almost everything you do is done entirely with regard to your own benefit. You know it's true, I can see it in your eyes. And you know, deep down, that you don't even really love that guy; you're just a child, crying for the moon, crying for what you can never have… and even if you got it, you'd just get bored and throw it away, like you do everything else-"

A vase exploded on the wall behind him, having narrowly missed his head as it was flung from its resting place on the study desk.

It was worse than if he'd actually hit her. She gaped at him, his smug face – his sickeningly handsome face – the wind knocked out of her. Her emotions were screaming at her, all for different reactions. Her breathing was ragged as he glanced behind them at the ruined vase, lying in pieces on the stone floor. A few anxious heads poked out of the girls' and boys' staircases as he twirled his wand indifferently, the vase repairing itself, whispers echoing around them in the almost-empty common room.

He looked at her, one last time. He smiled softly (Lily half-expected to see incisors sharp as a vampire's reveal themselves as he did). "I think that's enough truth-telling for one night," he said quietly, "don't you?"

She couldn't reply. Almost apoplectic with rage, she did what she should have done first; she slapped James Potter right across his beautiful face. She heard many sharp intakes of breath echo through the common room, some of the first years looking downright stunned. Her hands balled at her sides, she turned on her heel and fled from the room - but even in her rush, she couldn't miss his laughter as it followed her up the staircase, in to her dorm and to bed.


	2. They All Say the Things You Want to Hear

****

They All Say the Things You Want to Hear

The knot hadn't dissipated in Lily's stomach when she awoke to the shrill beep of the alarm on Friday morning. Feeling murderous, she instinctively threw her hand out in its direction, and it exploded before her barely-open eyes.

"Merlin, Lily," said Ally, looking bewildered as she sat up and looked at the expression on her best friend's face. "I take it last night didn't go well?"

Lily just rolled over, pulling the pillow over her head.

She heard the girls around her begin to wake and get ready for the school day, but didn't move from her bed (and no one, besides Ally, was feeling quite brave enough to remind her of the importance of breakfast). Lily dozed fitfully, hearing snatches of the conversations around her… ("… That was her _slapping_ him? God, I thought someone had let off one of Dr. Filibuster's…" – "… I guess she's not used to being rejected, although it's not like she'd be good enough for James _Potter_…") …

Abruptly, someone was gently shaking her awake.

"Lily," said Ally, her face appearing above her, worried. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lily snorted. She most certainly did _not._

"Well, okay, but…" Ally changed tact. "We've got class soon, you'd better hurry up."

"I'm not going," she grumbled, screwing up her nose at the thought of facing James Potter.

"But it's Potions, and we're learning the Anti-Perfidious Draught…" Ally's voice trailed off again as Lily shook her head. "You'd better head down to the infirmary, then. You know no student is allowed to miss a class without a note from Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm not going down there, either," said Lily stubbornly, finally rolling over to face her friend. She knew the rules as well as anyone, but no power on earth could make her leave her bed on this horrible, wretched day. Tears began to well in her eyes again as she thought back to the events of last night. "Ally," she all but whimpered, "you should have heard what he – Travis – said…" Not to mention what James had. She shuddered at the thought.

Ally's anxious, round face softened. "Well… okay. I'll tell Slughorn you're sick. You know he never says no to anything concerning you, anyway." She smiled, brushing the hair back from Lily's forehead like, Lily supposed, a mother would do. Never having really had one to do these sort of hair-brushing, comforting things, she couldn't be sure. Ally, promising to collect Lily's homework for her (at which she expressed her _sincere_ gratitude, rolling her eyes), left for a rushed breakfast, leaving Lily to be finally alone in the quiet comfort of their dorm.

She snuggled deeper under the covers, scowling as her thoughts insistently drifted back to last night. She could barely process her emotions, but questions flooded her brain all the same. _How_ could Travis have rejected her like that, as though he had always been entirely, one hundred per cent convinced they were horrible for each other? How could James Potter, the stupid, arrogant golden boy of Hogwarts, have figured her out so resolutely? Although, of course, he had figured out only a ridiculous, made-up version of the truth – she was _nothing_ like that, that vicious, self-obsessed, manipulative girl he had made her out to be… was she? Because, if Lily really allowed herself to be honest (though she hated being honest – it was completely overrated, in her opinion), wasn't that what she was really concerned about – that she really _was_ that girl? Of course not, the voice in her head scoffed insistently, Lily was kind, compassionate and helpful, just ask any of the teachers, and even if she did, occasionally, purposefully demonstrate (or perhaps enhance?) this side of herself to obtain house points, better grades and extended due dates, then the end was simply justifying the means, wasn't it? Unless –

"Miss Evans!" A very stern, very familiar voice cracked through the silence of the dormitory, startling her so badly she jumped. Professor McGonagall stood beside her bed, her lips a narrow line, her thin nostrils flaring and her eyes blazing – all sure signs Lily was in for Big Trouble. "You are in bed during _my _class, in your NEWT-study year, without a note from the hospital wing! What is the meaning of this?"

Lily hurriedly attempted to concoct a half-decent story, straightening her face into its most innocent-looking expression, but one look at Professor McGonagall told her that no amount of tall tales would get her out of this one. To her utmost horror, her eyes begin to fill with tears again; before she knew it, she was blabbering her darkest secrets to her Transfiguration teacher.

"… and then he said he – he-" she hiccoughed "-didn't _love_ me!" Lily's face was shining with tears, and the Professor had an expression on her frozen face that closely resembled terror. "He said he loves that stupid, _Emmeline_ Hamilton, and _now they're_ _getting married_! And then that idiotic _loser_, James _Potter_-"

"Lily," interrupted McGonagall, and she looked up through watery eyes, shocked to see a kindly expression on the witch's face. "Getting over your first broken heart is never easy," said McGonagall, actually sitting down on the bed and looking a little teary-eyed herself, apparently reminiscing. "And it is especially difficult to do when the object of your unrequited affections is occupying the same tower… although I didn't realize James Potter was engaged…"

Lily's tears evaporated instantly. McGonagall thought she was in love with _James Potter_? "No, not Potter, Professor McGonagall, I'm in love with Travis Vance! Or – at least… I was," she said, trailing off miserably. McGonagall's expression became thoughtful.

"Well, I suppose that does make a good deal more sense," she conceded. "That Travis Vance was always rather fortunate-looking, wasn't he?" And then she actually _smiled_ at Lily's stunned face. "Either way, Miss Evans…" she hesitated, seemingly battling with herself. "I will inform both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore you are ill today. But please, don't go sharing this information around; I don't want the other girls following your example. And promise me," she said, looking imploringly at Lily, "you will use today to reattempt the enchantment we were working on yesterday. Something tells me you didn't get much practice last night." She nodded at Lily, rising from the bed, and left the room.

Lily couldn't believe her luck; who knew such a breakdown would lead to the ultimate acquittal – from McGonagall herself! Seized by a sudden burst of inspiration, she grabbed her wand from beside her, pointing it squarely at Ally's fluffiest pillow. _"Intranseo!"_ A fluffy, perfect white poodle yapped happily at her, skippering over to where she sat, leaping into Lily's lap and licking the side of her face. She grinned. Maybe there _was_ more to this honesty thing after all.

* * *

Thanks to her heartening chat with Professor McGonagall, Lily felt brave enough to make it all the way downstairs to breakfast the next morning, sharing a secret smile with the Gryffindor Head as she made her way through the Great Hall. Apparently, a fourth year Hufflepuff boy had declared his love for a sixth year girl from his house rather publicly during dessert the night before, and hardly anyone even remembered the fight between Lily and James.

Not everyone had forgotten, though. As Lily poured herself a second glass of pumpkin juice, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Marjorie Johnson, flanked by her two BFFs, Bebe and Leslie, standing there.

"Morning, Evans," said Marjorie, a nasty smile plastered across her piggish face. Lily felt herself tense, not returning the gesture. "Are you feeling better, now that your heartbreak's not quite so fresh? Being rejected by James Potter's not an easy thing. Or so I've heard." The girls behind her laughed maliciously.

To Marjorie's utter surprise, Lily's face did break into a smile. "Well, you should know, Marjorie," she said sweetly. "Sirius told me about that time in third year when you got Bebe to ask Potter out for you, and then, when he said no…" she paused dramatically, "you told him it was a joke…"

Ally snickered and Lily grinned as Marjorie's face turned a nasty shade of puce, her dark eyebrows narrowing over her bulging eyes. Lily spotted Sirius and Remus approaching their table over the girl's shoulder.

"But you shouldn't worry too much," said Lily, pseudo-comfortingly. "I'm sure no one remembers these things. It was in third year, after all… isn't that right, Sirius?" she asked her friend as he and Remus clambered in to the seats in front of her, brushing Marjorie, Bebe and Leslie out of the way as he did so.

"Oh, sorry, Marjorie," said Sirius, as though only just noticing her, smirking as he selected a bit of toast from the usual breakfast spread. "Heard from James lately? He said he had a really good joke to tell you…" He bit into the toast, grinning at her, and this was the last straw for the Hufflepuff girl; she turned and fled, her followers at her heels.

Ally and Lily giggled uncontrollably as the two boys got stuck into their breakfasts. "Ugh, best timing ever, Sirius!" proclaimed Ally, grinning widely. "That Hufflepuff cow didn't know what hit her."

"Well," said Sirius, shrugging nonchalantly, but with a glint in his dark eyes, "you know what they say: no one messes with our Tiger-Lily…"

Lily's mouth fell open in shock – and anger. "He told you," she said, the laughter gone from her voice. "I can't believe he told you!" Her eyes flashed furiously and Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Sirius had yet to spot the danger.

"Chill out, Lily dearest," he chortled, swigging from his goblet of pumpkin juice. "James didn't tell us anything. I found a letter from your precious Travis Vance on the floor of the common room. I assume that was who you were talking to, in the fireplace, before you and James had your little tête-à-tête?"

She nodded reluctantly, still a little angry, but fervently glad James had not said anything regarding his comments to her beside the fire. Sirius looked at her weirdly.

"Seriously, Lil, Travis _Vance_?" he asked, looking rather astounded. "Never thought he'd be your type, all bookish and stuff…" He shook himself, as though someone had just walked over his grave, and grinned.

"Yeah," agreed Remus, "besides, isn't he engaged to Emmeline-?"

But one look from Lily shut him up.

"So," Ally interposed, "what are you guys up to today? We thought we might head out to the lake and-" She cut herself off; the boys were already shaking their heads.

"Quidditch practice," Sirius informed them promptly. "All day."

"Already?" said Lily, looking surprised. "The first match isn't for ages!"

"I know," said Remus, looking aggrieved, "but _this_ maniac here-" he jerked his thumb at Sirius, the Gryffindor Quidditch team Captain "-is insisting we get a head start if we're to win the Cup this year."

"We've got to make it five years in a row, Moony!" said Sirius, looking determined, the Tornadoes badge he frequently wore glinting on his chest.

Ally's eyebrows rose. "Moony?" she asked, exchanging a glance with Lily. "What does that mean?"

"Er – nothing," said Remus, looking trapped. "It's – stupid, really, doesn't even mean…"

Sirius jumped in. "It's what he likes to do," he said, with a shady grin. When the girls continued to look confused, he elaborated. "Moon people…?"

Lily and Ally hooted with laughter as Remus spluttered unhappily.

"That's not true!" he said, looking rather pleadingly at the girls, "I do not… as if I would…" Sirius took another bite of toast and grinned at his friend as he had Marjorie, and Remus reluctantly let out a laugh, slugging him in the shoulder.

"Come on, we better go," said Remus, still smiling, though his face had returned to its normal colour. "The rest of the team will be there by now." They left, Remus taking his beater's bat with him, laughing and jostling each other all the way out of the Hall.

"At least you won't have to worry about running into James today," said Ally, as they watched the boys leave, "as he'll be tied up with Quidditch…"

Considering this, Lily's spirits rose considerably, and they lazily made their way out on to the sun-drenched grounds, sitting comfortably beneath the largest beech tree as they dissected Lily's conversations with Professor McGonagall.

"I wonder who was McGonagall's first love?" said Ally, giggling a little as she thought of their teacher; it seemed impossible to think McGonagall would ever have sobbed into her own pillow over a guy.

"Probably Professor Dumbledore," suggested Lily with a smirk, "you know… tall, smart and handsome…" The two girls giggled loudly, Lily falling back on to her elbows on the soft green grass beneath the tree. She could see the Gryffindor Quidditch circling above the pitch, their long robes flying out behind them.

"Seriously, though…" she frowned to herself, and Ally cocked her head, intrigued. "How could I have been so stupid? I mean… he was – is – with Emmeline, he even introduced me to her as his girlfriend…" She laughed bitterly. "I guess I just thought that he was secretly in love with me, like I was with him."

"'Was'?" queried Ally, her tone cautious; Lily had barely mentioned anything about her conversation with Travis two nights before. "So… you don't think you're in love with him, anymore?"

"Maybe I never was," said Lily quietly. It felt strange, admitting it, but she knew it was true. "It was like… if I could get Travis to love me, I would be just like – like the girl he wanted – kind, and a good person, and-"

"Lily, you _are_ a good person," said Ally. She sat up and looked at her friend, her gaze intent. "You don't need to find that validation from another human being, and _especially _not from a guy. You only need to prove it to yourself. And _you_ know you are," Ally continued, adamant. "You are a good a person."

But the thing was, Lily wasn't too sure of that anymore.

* * *

Sunday morning dawned bright and early on the castle, with many students waking far earlier than they ordinarily would have on a weekend; the lure of the sun shining down outside, and the cool, crisp breeze swirling through the trees, was too strong to ignore. Ally was trying valiantly to persuade Lily to head down to the lake with the boys.

"Come on, Lil, the weather is gorgeous," wheedled Ally, as they changed out of their pyjamas; she gestured to the open window to prove her point. Lily peered down onto the grounds, the beautiful clash of the lush green lawns and the blue of the lake enticing her. "You can just talk to me and Sirius and Remus, if you want. James might not even be coming."

Lily gave her a look.

"Okay, so he'll probably be there," relented Ally, digging through her open trunk. "It doesn't matter anyway, you can just ignore him. Come on, Lil," she said again, big blue eyes pleading.

"Fine, I'll go," said Lily in a grumpy voice, but she couldn't help smiling. Maybe a swim would be just what she needed – and it put off finishing that essay on Lethifolds for her Defence class, anyway.

"Great," said Ally chirpily, pulling two bikinis from her case. "What do you think – pink or blue?"

"Why are you asking me?" said Lily, mock-surprised. "I thought it was only Frank's opinion that mattered."

Ally made a face at her this time – very similar to the one Lily had just pulled – and broke into a grin. "If it just so happens that he is present today," she said loftily, "there's nothing wrong with making sure I look my best…"

Lily laughed, grabbing her own swimsuit and heading for the bathroom to change. "It helps, though, that he'll be able to have a good perv while you're looking that way," she said, grinning, before ducking out of sight quickly as Ally threw a flip-flop at her head.

* * *

It _was_ beautiful, Lily had to admit, admiring the glassy reflection of the lake as she and Ally made their way down to the water. Students adventurous enough to brave a little cold water were scattered periodically around its edge, splashing, laughing and shrieking, while others basked in the shade of the trees that lined the lake. The sun beat down rather ferociously for September, and she grinned as they approached the pier on which three tall males sat, feet dangling just above the water.

"Hey, losers," grinned Lily as they approached. Sirius flicked water at with his foot, which she sidestepped, poking her tongue out at him.

Remus and Frank smiled at them, both still wearing t-shirts over their trunks and towels across their shoulders, unlike Sirius (who had apparently been shirtless for some time now, unsurprisingly).

"Let's go in," said Frank eagerly. "It looks good."

"It sure does," agreed Ally, although Lily noticed (not without a quick giggle) that Ally's gaze drifted more towards Frank than it did the water. Ally, ignoring her, changed the subject swiftly. "Hey, where's James?"

That shut Lily up.

"He's still coming," said Remus, gesturing back to the castle. "He had to speak to McGonagall about something."

Lily let out a sigh of relief, which caused Ally to laugh at her; she glared at her supposed best friend. Luckily, the boys were getting changed, removing their shirts and towels, and weren't paying any attention to them. Ally became distracted by Frank's rather buff figure and, thankfully, didn't attempt to retaliate, instead quickly undressing down to her swimsuit (she'd eventually decided on blue) and walking over to where the boys stood. Lily smiled at her besotted best friend, her heart twinging only slightly as it inevitably reminded her of the whole Travis-Emmeline-Lily-James saga. Reminding herself quickly to forget it, and just think about it tomorrow, she stripped off her plain white tank top and khaki cut-off shorts, and joined the others. Seeing her standing there in only a white bikini, fiery hair glinting in the sun, Sirius let out a loud wolf-whistle.

"Whoo-woooo, Evans!" he called, grinning. "Looking good!"

Lily, who was well aware she had nothing to worry about when it came to her body, blushed only lightly at his half-joking comments. "Last one in has to kiss the Giant Squid!" she cried, laughing. She gave Sirius a playful shove as they all dashed for the end of the pier and Lily, reaching it, took a deep breath and jumped.

With a muffled _whoosh_, the silence of the underwater world greeted her. Lily kicked her legs, diving deeper into the cool blue waters. It was so peaceful down there, she thought blissfully, her eyes closed serenely. Suddenly, something grabbed at her foot; she didn't feel so serene anymore.

She kicked her way up to surface quickly, gasping, where she was met by a grinning Sirius.

"Grindylow attack?" he said innocently. She dunked him under the water, and then did the same to a bystanding Remus, for good measure. Sirius, emerging, tried to grab at her foot again, but she kicked her legs, splashing water in his face, and swam out of reach. He shook his head, hair and water flying everywhere, and Lily and Remus laughed. Sirius dove for them both in an attempt for retribution, but Lily made for the pier quickly, grabbing onto the ladder.

She pulled herself up and out of the water, her head going back and her chest going forward as she shook the water out of her face, eyes closed. Lily reached a hand up to her hair, pulling it away from her face. Opening her eyes, she was shocked to find herself face-to-face with a very shirtless James Potter.

"Hey," he said casually. "Everyone's already in the water, I suppose?"

Lily, shocked by his tone, was unable to immediately formulate a reply. (Why was it only he could force her into speechlessness?) How was it possible, after their last – er – 'conversation', that he could be so goddamn cavalier? _Fine_, she thought, recovering rapidly, _two can play at that game. _

"Guess so," she said indifferently, stepping to the side of the side ladder, and promptly executing a neat backflip.

"Nice, Lil!" she heard Remus call as she resurfaced, waving to James at the same time. James had taken a seat on the edge of the dock; she couldn't help but admire his impressive muscle tone. "Where'd you ever learn such Olympic level skills?"

She rolled her eyes laughingly. "Try being thirteen and obsessed with your pool's diving board," she said, smiling. "I could totally take _any_ of you in a diving comp." Demonstrating a backwards-tumble in the water to emphasise her point, she noted, with a somewhat-depraved satisfaction, James' eyes trailing the lines of her body.

Sirius swam over to the two of them. "That sounds like a challenge to me, Moony, old pal," he commented, a glint in his eye.

"It certainly does, Padfoot," replied Remus, grinning. She heard James from the dock.

"Wait a second – 'Padfoot'?" she said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "More dubious nicknames… is there something you want to tell me, guys?"

She giggled as Sirius' face turned from confusion, to shock, to abject horror. "_What_?" he cried, aghast. "Lily! I can't believe you'd even – totally wrong end of the – James has got one too, not just us!"

Still smirking, she turned to look at Potter, who was now standing above them on the pier's edge. Though his face was, as usual, a mask to Lily, she thought she saw a flicker of anger pass over his mysterious eyes at Sirius' panicked revelation.

"He does, does he?"asked Lily, an eyebrow raised as she looked him defiantly in the eye. "And what might that be?"

James' dark eyes gave nothing away. "Not telling," he said, and promptly dove in after them. He broke the surface and remerged not two feet away from her. Feeling rather trapped as he shook his messy, wet hair from his eyes, and to distract herself from his well-built chest, Lily raced for the pier again. Standing above the three boys, she called, "how about that diving competition?"

"Sounds good to me," said Remus, and next to him Sirius nodded and James shrugged indifferently. "You better bring it, Lily!"

She grinned, taking a couple steps back. "Watch out," she told them. With a skip, she pushed her hands down, executing a quick cartwheel-roundoff, before finishing with a magically-enhanced double-frontflip-dive into the water.

She resurfaced to an enthusiastic round of applause, led by Sirius. "Well, I'm out," he said, laughing. Lily grinned and stuck her tongue out at him again.

"Looks like we need some other contenders, then," she said, spotting Ally and Frank talking quietly in the shallows nearer the water's edge. "I'll go and round up the troops." She started to make her way towards them in an efficient freestyle, but as her arm came up out of the water, she felt a strong hand grab her above the elbow.

"Hey-!" she began, whipping around to glare at Potter, but he simply put a finger to his lips, his other hand still not releasing her.

"Wait," he told her, quietly. "Can't you tell Frank's just about to ask her out, _finally_?"

"What are you talking about, Potter?" she snapped, turning to look back where Ally and Frank sat, disbelievingly. Before her eyes, however, Frank seemed to ask her best friend a question, looking nervous, before Ally flushed prettily and actually kissed his cheek, nodding.

"There," said James, his voice still soft. "Aren't you glad you didn't interrupt that tender moment? Now they've finally put an end to their unrequited pining."

Lily shrugged her arm free of his grasp, scowling. "Oh, I'm _so_ sorry," she said bitchily, "I haven't quite honed my mind-reading skills to your omniscient level, Potter." She swam back to where Remus was, his egg-beating legs keeping him afloat effortlessly. He thoughtfully pretended to not have noticed the tense interaction between his two friends.

"We've evened the playing field," he informed her, grinning. Out of the corner of her eye, Lily became aware of a dark shape running towards them from the pier. "Instead, we're having a-"

_Splash!_

Sirius had jumped into the lake next to them, drenching them with water, and scaring Lily half to death.

"-Cannonball competition," finished Remus, glaring at Sirius. Their shaggy-haired friend simply grinned at them.

"Couldn't let Lily have all the fun," he said, dunking her.

* * *

Several hours later, the sun all but disappeared, a now-dry Lily Evans stood behind the mirror in the seventh year girls' dormitory bathroom, brushing her long hair out. As she reached up to brush the top layers, she caught sight of a very disorientated and very scruffy-looking Ally, who had wandered into the room, apparently still lost in her thoughts.

"Ally!" said Lily, wheeling around. "Where have you been? I saw you and Frank at the lake-" She stopped, frowning, as Ally sank down onto her bed, looking slightly stunned. "Are you okay? You look kind of… odd."

Ally mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What did you say?" asked Lily, beginning to feel concerned.

Her blonde friend glanced up at her, an odd look in her eyes. Ally finally managed to choke out two words: "broom… cupboard…"

Lily screamed. "Oh my God! Ally! You and Frank?"

"No, me and the Giant Squid," said Ally sarcastically; evidently, she had recovered a little.

Lily clapped her hands together delightedly, disregarding Ally's derision. "Your first broom cupboard tryst…" she said in a dreamy voice, and laughed. "You're really a couple now."

Ally squirmed, half-embarrassed, half-delighted. "You have no idea, Lily," she said, her voice hoarse. "At the lake, he asked me… to go out with him…"A grin spread slowly across her face. "And then this afternoon… well, I can now say with absolute certainty that Frank Longbottom is the best kisser in the world." She sighed happily, and Lily giggled at the besotted blonde.

"You'd better get ready for dinner," she said, pointing at the time on Ally's (freshly repaired) clock. "They're announcing the new Heads tonight – don't you want to see _your boyfriend_ become Head Boy?"

Ally got to her feet quickly, practically sprinting to the shower. Lily sent a towel zooming in behind her.

"And don't come out until you're pretty!" she yelled after Ally.

* * *

The house tables were unusually crowded that night. Everyone seemed to be keen to find out who the new student leaders would be; never before had the teachers allowed such a dramatic build-up to precede their choice. The turmoil affecting the outside world weighed on the students' minds, too, knowing that the new Heads would face a difficult year attempting to unite the school amidst the growing tension.

"Wouldn't it be great," said Ally excitedly, "when Frank gets Head Boy, if I got Head Girl, too? The student leaders get those special dorms, you know, and we would be practically living together…" Her eyes positively shone at the very thought of such domestic bliss.

"Yeah, well, neither of us were first in line for Prefect, even, so don't get your hopes up," said Lily, bitterly. Rumours had swirled during pudding, depicting Marjorie Johnson as the odds-on favourite for the new Head Girl position, and Lily had been in a bad mood ever since she'd heard them. The thought of Marjorie having the ability to hand out detentions was galling, but Lily couldn't deny that for all her own good graces amongst (a majority of) the teachers, she had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time once too often to truly be considered 'Head material'. No, that honour had – for Gryffindor – gone to Hestia Jones, a short, sniffle-y girl whose penchant for six-scrolls-long essays and tendency to spit when she talked (and who unfortunately shared their dormitory) made Lily generally avoid and dislike her instinctively. She went on, "especially if _Marjorie_ manages to get her hands on the badge-"

A sharp drop in the conversational noises around them brought a halt to Lily's tirade. Professor Dumbledore was standing in front of them, waiting patiently for silence. Many students were staring expectantly at their Headmaster, Marjorie Johnson (as Lily noticed, even from the Gryffindor table) most intently of all.

"The time has come for the announcement of this year's Head Boy and Girl," said Dumbledore, surveying the anticipating faces with laughing eyes. "Our newest student leaders will be both responsible for and very involved in many aspects of the school year, including organizing Hogsmeade visits and Prefect meetings."

"Yeah, yeah, get on with it," Lily heard Sirius mutter from his place across the table, flanked either side by James and Remus, and she giggled quietly.

"And thus," continued Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, "it gives me great pleasure to announce our newest Head Boy and Girl: James Potter and Lily Evans."

Silence reigned throughout the Great Hall.

Lily couldn't believe her ears. Maybe she _had_ heard wrong, she reasoned; that was the only explanation for the fact that she thought Dumbledore had just announced herself and Potter as the two new Heads. Then –

"WHAT?" cried Marjorie, anger and disbelief written across her face as her shrill voice cracked through the hall, breaking the silence. Voices erupted everywhere.

"Oh, my God," she heard Ally say beside her, eyes wide.

Lily, still recovering, thought maybe the most insane thing about this whole bizarre, surreal moment was that the sentiment Marjorie Johnson had uttered was the exact same thing she felt like saying herself, if she could just bring herself to articulate _anything_…

A scattered applause started up, led by Dumbledore, who was still standing as his eyes glittered wildly in Lily and James' direction. Trust him to pull a stunt like this, she thought, half-amusedly. The initial shock was beginning to fade away; her heartbeat was returning to its normal frequency. For the first time, she noticed hundreds of faces turned her way, most of them in shock. She didn't exactly blame.

"What the hell?" said Sirius loudly, looking as stunned as she felt. Lily barely took offence; while she, charming Lily Evans and golden boy James Potter weren't exactly the oddest choices ever made for Hogwarts' student leader roles, it was such a shock that neither Frank Longbottom nor Marjorie Johnson had received a title that even their friends could be forgiven their consternation.

"If Lily and James would join me at the head table when they are finished with their dessert, I think that would be all in the way of announcements this fine evening," finished Dumbledore. "Good night to all!"

Students began to file out of the Hall, still buzzing with the news. Neither Lily nor James made to move from their seats. Remus – himself a Prefect – looked at her, clearly a little shell-shocked.

"Well," he said, slowly, "that was… interesting…"

Next to him, Sirius nodded fervently as he stared blankly at the table.

Ally turned to Lily, her expression slightly crestfallen. "You better go," she said, nudging Lily out of her reverie; Lily looked up, her expression befuddled. "…to see Dumbledore?"Ally clarified, pointing to where the wizened old wizard stood, waiting.

"Oh," said Lily, catching on. "Right. Yeah."

She got up from her seat clumsily, James doing the same (although, it had to be said, with a little more grace). He didn't look nearly as surprised as everyone else, but then again, Lily had proved useless at interpreting the thoughts of James Potter. Silently, they walked on opposite sides of the long table to where Dumbledore was waiting, in front of the table the teachers usually occupied. As she passed the row of professors still sitting behind it, mostly still chatting, Lily's eyes met with McGonagall's.

"Congratulations, Miss Evans," said the witch, smiling ever so slightly at her. Lily looked at her in surprise, before a smile spread slowly across her own face. Had McGonagall put in a word for her, after their conversation on Friday? She couldn't believe it.

Now she was in front of her Dumbledore, James standing silently next to her; the Headmaster clapped his hands together.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling amusedly at them. "Congratulations are, of course, in order for both of you. Now, neither of you having been a Prefect before, there are a few things we need to go over before you take on your first duties. If you wouldn't mind, please follow me through to the Hall's antechamber and I will attempt to brief you on these rather more mundane procedures." He dropped a small wink at them, so tiny Lily almost missed it, and beckoned them inside the antechamber, through a door behind the head table.

Dumbledore looked around the room, his eyes narrowed in thought. "I often feel this room is underused," he said, inspecting a dusty silver candle holder. "We shall have to think up some form of use for it - though it does feel the place for secret announcements, for tournaments and the like, doesn't it?" Lily, still confused and stunned, had no idea what the old wizard was talking about, but Dumbledore changed the subject back to their current predicament quickly."Now, the first thing we must discuss is the Prefect roster. Each Prefect must patrol the castle twice weekly. The Heads," he said, indicating them, "are required to do so three times a week. Each patrol lasts two hours, usually with both Prefects from each house and year patrolling together; they may, however, choose to do so alone, for an hour each."

Lily's first thought was that she and Potter would most likely be putting into practice the latter option, and she hurriedly hid the smirk from her face.

"Patrols begin at 8.30 and end at 10.30 pm, with the intention of ensuring no students are breaking their curfews. Every night, one patrol must take place in each of the four towers. Now, it is your duty to ensure that each shift has been covered and that the roster is fair and equal," finished the wizard. "Many Prefects will undoubtedly desire to swap their rostered patrols at times, and you may do your best to accommodate them, but if they deliberately avoid or fail to attend a shift, it is up to you to ensure they are, firstly, given a warning and – should it happen again – appropriately punished."

She was suddenly struck by the rather pleasant image of Marjorie polishing all the bed pans in the Hospital Wing non-magically, and once again tried to wipe the impending grin from her face; this time, however, Dumbledore seemed to take notice of the variance in her facial expression.

"Of course, all punishments must be run by either the student's Head of House or myself," said Dumbledore, his eyebrows slightly raised in her direction. Lily's eyes widened slightly in feigned innocence, but their Headmaster simply smiled.

"Also, dates, regulations and observations for future Hogsmeade visits will be both decided upon and organized by yourselves, along with any future school events that you feel may be – er – beneficial to student morale," continued Dumbledore, and for the first time, his expression became solemn. "Miss Evans, Mr. Potter, you must both be aware of the current situation facing the wizarding world. There are dark times ahead, and it would be foolish to think the walls of this castle alone will be enough to protect the students of Hogwarts. Undoubtedly some will be touched by the actions of Lord Voldemort and his followers. It is therefore highly important that we do all we can to unite the school and keep morale high during these difficult times."

She nodded, her expression now reflecting the Headmasters, and tried to ignore the chill that slipped down her spine. The realization of the responsibility that had been thrust on them seemed to weigh down on her in that moment.

"Of course, Professor," supplied James, filling the awkward silence that had engulfed them.

Dumbledore nodded. "The two of you were elected as this year's student leaders because of the staff's – and the students' – belief that you are capable of performing these tasks even in this demanding year. I know you will not let us down." He stopped, his face suddenly breaking from its sober expression. "That is not to say, however, that the position of Head is all work and no reward." He smiled. "Allow me to show you to your new rooms."

* * *

"Whoa," said James quietly, as they walked through the portrait-hole. It was sentiment she had to concur with. Even Lily, who had never been deprived of anything, was utterly amazed at the beauty, grandeur and utter _perfection_ of the Head dormitory.

"You're happy with it, then?" asked their Headmaster. "Excellent, the house elves will be pleased."

"Happy?" asked Lily, staggered, then stopped herself. "It'll do, I guess. Whatever." She grinned, Dumbledore laughing along with her.

Their new common room was not dissimilar to the Gryffindor one, with a wooden fireplace centered on the west-facing wall, a warm fire already crackling in the grate. Comfy, squishy armchairs and lounges in black leather and purple-grey suede faced it, adorned with cushions in assorted colours, and a dark wood coffee table at perfect feet-resting height placed in front of them. On the wall facing stood a bookshelf, stuffed full of tombs with titles as magical as _Major Magical Advancements of the Nineteenth & Twentieth Centuries in Spells, Enchantments, Potions & More_ and – she was shocked to see – as muggle as _Gone With the Wind_. A kitchen stood facing the lounge area: all sleek lines and steel surfaces, clashing with the stunning, antique chandelier that hung above the bench top. But most striking of all was the huge, breathtaking balcony that opened up on the wall opposite the fireplace via French doors, which folded back to eliminate almost the entire wall. Lily walked over to this wall, her hand resting on the now-closed doors, and looked out into the clear night sky, illuminated by the almost-full moon.

"Wow," she said softly.

Two doors stood on either side of the kitchen, and it was to these that Dumbledore now gestured. "These are the doors to your bedrooms," he informed them. "Each room has a door inside that leads to the bathroom, which you will share. You are, of course, still permitted to eat with the rest of us in the Great Hall at meal times, but the kitchen is there for your convenience, so feel free to use it." He rubbed his hands together as he had done back when they had first spoken that evening. "So! That should be all for now, I think. You are welcome to share any questions, ideas or dilemmas with me in my office; should you need to speak with me, or any of the teachers, the password to my office is 'Fizzing Whizbee', and the password to the teacher's lounge is 'Felix Felicis. I will leave the two of you to look around, if you like, but your things will not be moved here until tomorrow, at which time I suggest it would be easiest for the two of you to move in."

Lily nodded, but James looked thoughtful. "Professor Dumbledore," he said, "are we required to stay in these rooms?"

Dumbledore looked as surprised as she felt. "Well, no," he said, frowning a little, "but these rooms have been tailored to your – compromised – individual tastes using a strand of your hair and a spell of the house elves' own invention. Surely they don't disappoint?"

"It's not that," said James, hurriedly. "It's just – well…" he seemed to hesitate; Lily frowned confused. He seemed to glance awkwardly at her, before continuing, "what if the living situation is somewhat… convoluted?"

Lily felt her cheeks burn, her stomach flipping with anger. Just what, exactly, was he insinuating – and right in front of their Headmaster, too? Dumbledore looked at them, arching an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem with these living arrangements?" he asked, looking from James to Lily and back again.

James opened his mouth to speak again, but Lily cut across him. "Not that I'm aware of, Professor," she informed him, though she was looking at James. She turned back to Dumbledore. "I've no problem at all," she said, sweetly, and (she smirked to herself) she could practically feel James roll his eyes beside her.

"Good," said Dumbledore, looking from one to the other again, before his voice broke into a wry smile. "Your propensity for surviving each other domestically is a strong indicator of your ability to work together professionally. Try not to screw it up." He winked again and bade them goodnight, sweeping from the room; Lily felt as though a candle had gone out. She unconsciously turned to James, who was looking around the room. It felt very odd – and uncomfortable – to be alone with him again. This time, at least, she thought, there would be no one listening in from the staircase.

"Why would you not want to live here?" she asked, mostly to fill the rather deafening silence that had descended upon them. "It's brilliant."

He looked up at her, his expression strange and undecipherable. "I would have thought that was obvious," he said, sounding a little perplexed. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable after our last… er… 'heart-to-heart'."

Whatever answer she had been expecting, this was most definitely not it. Shocked both at his acknowledgement of their conversation (especially after his indifference at the lake this morning), and his apparent regard for her feelings, she was unsure at first how to react. She retreated to the most common reaction she had to him – namely anger – and scowled. "Well, way to embarrass us both in front of Dumbledore," she said brusquely, before she hesitated. "But… thanks. I guess. And I'm not."

"Not what?" he asked, examining the books in the shelves nearest them, his back to her. She frowned, making a questioning face at the back of his head, wondering if he had really meant it after all.

"I'm not uncomfortable," she said, loudly. "Really. I don't care if you live here. I mean… it's as much yours as it is mine, after all."

He didn't even attempt a reply, still absorbed in the book titles; an awkward silence crept between them again, and Lily felt herself grow fidgety and somewhat self-conscious. Making an excuse, she left him and the dorm behind, striding quickly back to Gryffindor Tower for her last night as a resident. Her thoughts were conflicted, centering almost entirely around James' unpredicted behaviour; she was utterly puzzled as to why now, of all times, he had decided to care how she felt. So introverted where her thoughts that she almost ran into the portrait of the Fat Lady; she hurriedly gave the password and almost flew up the seven flights of stairs to her dorm, where the other four girls were already sleeping. She changed quickly and fell into bed – her last sleep in this bed, she managed to recall, before she fell asleep on her last night in Gryffindor Tower, consumed in thoughts of James Potter.

* * *

"There's this big, gorgeous old chandelier that hangs over the kitchen," Lily was saying excitedly at breakfast the next morning, "and a _giant_ balcony – Ally, when you see it, I swear, you'll just die. It has the most _amazing_ view, and-"

"Mmm," interrupted Ally, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to feign interest. She had her Potions textbook propped open against the pumpkin juice jug, not even looking at Lily.

"What's up with you?" Lily frowned.

"Nothing," said Ally shortly, snatching up a savoury muffin and slashing it in half rather forcefully. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," insisted Lily, "you've been grumpy all morning. I am _trying_ to tell you about my fabulous new living arrangements. Couldn't you even _pretend_ to be happy for me, or at least slightly interested?"

Ally sent her a withering glance, loaded with venom. "Why should I bother? You're doing that enough for both of us."

Lily stared at her friend in shock. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded loudly. People were starting to look over at them.

Ally snapped. "Can you just get _over_ yourself for _five_ minutes? Not everything is about you, or your stupid new dormitory!"

Lily's mouth fell open, but before she could begin to protest, Ally snapped the book shut and stood, glaring at her.

"Just don't speak to me until you've got something else to talk about," she said, striding away.

"Don't worry," yelled Lily, "I won't bother!" She thumped an elbow onto the table, her chin planting itself haughtily in her hand, and huffed angrily. A third year sat, staring open-mouthed at her. "What?" she snapped. Instantly, she regretted it; being Head Girl didn't allow for much wriggle room when it came to how she chose to communicate with lower-classmen. The gold badge that was now positioned on her chest seemed to glare at her, too. Feeling mutinous, she'd better leave the Great Hall before she did something that might relieve her of her duties; she doubted that Dumbledore would see her setting the Gryffindor table ablaze as making a good example of herself.

* * *

"She's just being so unreasonable," Lily whined to Remus over their shared cauldron. "I mean, it's not my fault I got elected Head Girl – it's not like I ever asked to be. And now she's being _such_ a bitch because she's jealous it wasn't her and Frank – no, don't put that in, it'll counteract the gurdyroot," she said, pushing his hand away before he could add the infusion of wormwood.

They were making the Draught of the Living Dead, a potion so complex that Professor Slughorn required two students to attend to every cauldron. Lily, however, was so wrapped up in her fight with Ally (who was currently attending Care of Magical Creatures) that she was almost on autopilot; it was lucky that one of her greatest magical strengths was potion-making, or Remus (who was rather inexpert when it came to anything involving a cauldron – his only weak subject) would have accidentally caused a small magical explosion at least three times already.

"Remind me again why you're taking this subject?" she asked him as she stirred the potion four times clockwise, five times anti-clockwise and seven-times clockwise repeatedly, not even looking at what she was doing.

He looked sheepish. "I need a pass to get into Healing," he said, unenthusiastically. "Dad made me do it."

She laughed rather bitterly. "Parents," she said, "they're almost as bad as best friends. Add a little of the flaxton fungus, would you?"

He consented to her request, adding the reddish-purple fungus slowly as she continued to stir. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on Ally, though?" he asked, frowning a little. "I mean…" he faltered at the look on her face, but bravely persevered in informing her of his opinion on the matter. "You two have been friends for so long, I doubt Ally would be jealous about something you had no control over. Besides," he said, "I heard her mention something about her and Frank being the new Head Boy and Girl, and it sounded like she only wanted the position if he got it too, and only then so that they were sharing a dorm. Do you really think she would care so much if she were sharing with James?"

Lily had to admit he had a point, but she wasn't ready to concede entirely yet. "But still," she persisted, "I was telling her all about the new dorm, and it was like she didn't even care. Why would she act like that?" A slightly wounded note crept into her voice. "I thought she'd be happy for me."

Remus was frowning, watching Sirius and James absentmindedly as Slughorn inspected their cauldron. "After a while, it gets hard to watch your friend always getting everything you want." Lily looked sideways at him, but he barely noticed, still looking pensive. "Ultimately," he said, "it's only natural to want to stand out on your own."

* * *

Lily didn't speak to Ally during Transfiguration, lunch, Charms or Ancient Runes; they ignored each other at dinner, too. For the first time, however, they would not have to face each other beyond class and the Great Hall; Lily's trunk and other assorted items had been moved during school hours to her new bedroom in the Heads' dorm, and she would be retiring there instead of Gryffindor Tower.

It felt odd, she noticed, moving in this new way and in the entirely opposite direction to which she was used to, in order to retreat to the privacy of her bed. She felt exhausted as she approached the portrait of the fat knight Sir Cadogan, behind who lay her new residence and (hopefully comfortable) bed. Yawning, she gave the password ('Scurvy knave!') and scrambled through the portrait hole, emerging ungracefully on the other side.

It was, of course, just as beautiful as she'd remembered, a fire yet again present in the grate and warming the room. James didn't seem to be around (which, frankly, was a relief). She crossed to the French doors, letting herself out on to the balcony for the first time.

The full moon illuminated the sparse few clouds in the sky, stars twinkling down over the calm grounds of Hogwarts. She could almost see as far as the Whomping Willow, all the way across the other side of the lake. It was perfect and still, if a little cold, and after a while of just observing the night contentedly, she let herself back inside to warm up.

Last night, she'd been in such a rush to escape James' puzzling presence and be alone with her very confused thoughts that she'd not even stopped to investigate her bedroom. Now, she thought, crossing the room quickly as her heart skipped in anticipation, the oversight seemed almost a sacrilege. She reached forward and pushed the door to the left of the kitchen, now marked 'Lily', open with one fluid motion.

It was gorgeous. A huge four-poster bed, even larger and more ornate than her previous one in Gryffindor tower, stood against the left wall, all glinting gold posts and soft white drapery. The bed covers were white too, adorned only by a caramel-coloured throw lying across the bed's lower half, which was made of an irresistibly-plush fabric. A large, north-facing window was situated to the left of the bed, thrown open to catch the cool night breeze. She moved towards it, her fingers resting on the sill, and took a deep breath, the air deliciously crisp and clean (in comparison to the smog that often positioned itself, stubbornly, over muggle London). Next to the window lay a silver-and-white old-fashioned chaise lounge with scrolled gold edges, a chandelier – similar but smaller than the one in the kitchen – hanging above it. A door she presumed led to the bathroom she and James would share stood opposite the bed, while a plain white cupboard faced it on the wall next to the bed and the windows. Sighing a little disappointedly and expecting to find only enough room to house a quarter of her rather extensive wardrobe, she opened the cupboard door…

… and was greeted by a closet the size of the Entrance Hall. Okay, well, maybe not _quite_ as big, but Lily clapped her hands delightedly all the same and rushed in to check out the rows and rows of racks, shelves and stands; to top it all off, her clothes were already folded, placed and hung neatly in the magically-expanded closet! She grinned to herself, making a mental note to thank the house elves profusely on her next visit to the kitchens.

She left the closet, yawning and catching sight of herself in the mirror on the wall opposite her bed. God, she looked tired. Stifling another yawn, she decided on a quick shower and bed. No, even the shower could wait, she thought, sinking onto the bed with changing; it had, after all, been a rather trying day.

* * *

"So I guess you decided not to move into the new dorm after all," she said to James over breakfast the next morning. She was sitting across from him at the Gryffindor table, with Remus (who looked wan and ill) and Sirius (who was sporting a nasty-looking cut across his cheek that he had jokingly tried to tell her was caused by Michelle Robinson's fingernails); Ally was sitting with Frank at the Ravenclaw table and determinedly ignoring her.

He looked up at her, half-surprised at her voluntarily speaking to her, and frowned. "What gave you that idea?"

It was her turn to frown at him, looking at James as though he'd lost his mind. "Well, it's not like you slept there last night, so…"

He raised his eyebrows. "So…?"

She huffed at him, frustrated. "_So_, obviously you decided to stay in Gryffindor tower!" She was strangely angry, for some reason, but she put it down to his new-found idiocy.

"Actually, I had things to do before I moved in. Why?" he asked, dropping his voice, a smirk playing across his lips (looking especially soft this morning, she noted furiously). "Did you miss me?"

"Of course not!" she burst out, before she could stop herself. His smirk grew more pronounced, and she back-pedalled hastily. "I mean, it was quite rude of you, you know. What if I had-"

"Lily," he said, eyes glittering dangerously, still smirking, "were you worried about me?"

She caught herself this time. "You wish, Potter," she said sweetly, her voice far more relaxed and far more dangerous. "I was just hoping I might get to use your room as a second closet. It's too bad." She sighed dramatically and he arched an eyebrow, grinning.

"You never know, Evans," he said smoothly, a glint in his eye. "There might be other advantages to having me around."

* * *

Ally and Lily spent another day dancing around each other, each determined not to crack, but fault lines in both camps were beginning to appear: Lily spent a wasted hour in History of Magic writing and re-writing a note to her best friend, only to abandon her attempt when she got to the _I'm sorry, though I don't think I should be the one apologizing_ part; Ally, encouraged by Frank, almost asked Lily if she could borrow her Charms textbook (having conveniently left hers upstairs) before she chickened out. By dinner, however, the battle lines remained as evident as they had during breakfast.

Lily and James had each retired to the dorm after dinner, Lily attempting to acclimatize to their newfound (and forced) proximity by reading on the couch as James played with a Golden Snitch from the opposite armchair, letting it zoom further and further away from himself each time before he caught it. Lily, unfortunately, found this particularly annoying; she sat, glaring at her textbook with her teeth clenched, as his catches grew more exuberant and disruptive, looking up intermittently tutting and huffing.

"Oh, for god's sake," she snapped after he snatched up the tiny gold ball once again, "save it for your fan club, will you?"

He smirked, mock-surprised. "Lily, isn't that what I have _you_ for?"

She rolled her eyes and went back to her book, scowling viciously at the notes on Protean charms. A knock sounded from the behind the portrait hole, and Sir Cadogan's voice broke through the silence.

"Oho, fair maiden!" he called, and an odd clunk sounded, probably indicated he had dropped his sword. Again. "For what noble quest does thee call upon brave Sir Cadogan?"

There was no answer, save for another loud knock. Lily and James exchanged a look.

"'Fair maiden'?" he repeated. "It's probably just Sirius, then." Lily actually giggled at this, and James got up and swung the portrait-hole door open, looking slightly pleased with himself.

He peered around the open door, his expression slightly surprised as he registered who their visitor was. "Oh, hi, Ally," he said, stepping back politely to allow her to enter the room.

Lily looked up as Ally appeared, trying to hide the shock from her face. James looked from one to the other, obviously uncomfortable, and hastily excused himself to his bedroom.

The two girls stood in silence momentarily, Ally looking uncomfortable, Lily doing her best to look haughty and unruffled.

"What are you doing here?" asked Lily, eyebrow arched impatiently, but a tiny quiver of hope sat just behind the steel glint in her eye.

"I…" began Ally, faltering. "I asked Frank where your room was. All the Prefects know, apparently."

"Obviously," said Lily, coldly. Ally flinched in the face of her unrelenting callousness.

"Anyway, it looks nice," she said hurriedly. "I'm just going to go, then." She started to make her way toward the door –

"Wait," burst out Lily. Ally turned around, a hurt look written across her features. Lily softened; this was her _best_ friend, who was obviously trying a lot harder than she was to mend this strain on their relationship. Her voice was much quieter when she next spoke. "Why did you get so mad at me yesterday?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" said Ally, though she looked a little relieved. "I'm not even jealous or anything, I swear. I just… I realized how, with you gone, I would be all alone in our dorm – my dorm, now, I guess – and I just got a little mad, thinking you were, like, abandoning me or something…"

Lily finally understood, her anger all but melting away. "Ally," she said smilingly, forgivingly, "I'm not going to abandon you just because I'm living here now." She grinned, moving toward her best friend. "It's just what I have to do to be Head Girl. It's not like we're never going to hang out anymore!"

Ally laughed too, sniffling a little. "I know," she said, "I know it was stupid, but…"

But Lily understood – understood, entirely, what it felt like to be abandoned. She wrapped Ally in a hug, then stood back, smiling. "Besides, you can totally come here every night and hang," she told her, "it's way quieter than the Gryffindor common room! Except when stupid Potter is playing with that stupid Snitch _every five seconds_," she yelled, loudly, for James' benefit.

"Oh, shut up," grinned Ally. "You don't even hate him that much, and you know it." Lily looked at her in divergence, but she couldn't help but laugh too, especially as her heart felt lighter now than it had in two days.

"Come on," said Lily, linking arms with her friend. "I'll give you the grand tour."

* * *

She awoke the next morning early, stretching luxuriously in her huge bed, and sighed happily. How pleasant it was, she realized, to be awakened by the warming sun and not Ally's alarm clock; she had argued often for the curtains to be allowed to stay open during the night in the Gryffindor dorm, as this would enable them to wake naturally, but she had always been drowned out by the other girls' protests. It was nice to be able to decide for herself.

She yawned quietly as she rolled out of bed, knocking quickly to check James wasn't already in the bathroom. Thankfully, he wasn't, and she showered quickly, changing into her uniform and heading out into the kitchen. Lily decided to have breakfast in the kitchen, pulling out a box of plain cereal from the cupboard's well-stocked contents. She sat on one of the stools behind the bench top, munching quietly and musing distractedly about the day's prospects.

The portrait-hole door slid open with a loud scrape. Lily started, not having even heard Sir Cadogan greet the entrant. James climbed through, wearing an old grey hooded sweatshirt pushed up at the sleeves, and drinking thirstily from a water bottle.

"God," said Lily, looking at him in disgust. "You got out of bed early to go exercise? That's just not natural."

He grinned at her, pushing his hair back to stop it sticking to his forehead. "You might want to try it sometime," he said, looking her up and down.

She scoffed. "_Excuse_ me?"

"I'm just saying," he shrugged, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl, peeling it. "I mean, seriously. How many push-ups could you do, two? On a good day. Better not, though, you might break a nail."

She glared at him, leaning back in her chair, as he took huge bites out of the banana. "You seriously don't know me at all."

"Why do you seem so sure about that?" he said, with an eyebrow raise and a smile that unsettled her. He threw the banana into the trash can, walking over to his room. "I might know you a lot better than you think."

* * *

The next few weeks of school passed quickly. Lily and James had to adjust, hastily, to their newly filled schedules: Prefect meetings, classes, patrol shifts, Quidditch practices (for James) and Apparation lessons (for Lily) mingled together in the blur that became their first fortnight as Head Boy and Girl. They did, however, find time to argue.

"Maybe if you even _looked_ at the proposal," Lily was insisting loudly, "you'd be able to recognize the importance of what Jeremy-"

"It's – uh – it's Jason, actually," said the Hufflepuff fifth year meekly, whose proposal on allowing magic to be used in the corridors between classes was currently being debated.

"-Jason, has written," said Lily, glaring at James. "Or is it true what the Slytherins say – can you really _not_ read, Potter?"

"The whole proposal is ridiculous, Evans," said James, though his voice was much more controlled than hers. "Allowing students to use magic in the passageways would only lead to more accidents, fights and bullying. It's rather obvious; really, I don't know why you can't see why that. Or has thinking up all those _witty_ insults been distracting you?"

"_Potter_, if we could use magic in the hallways, like Jonathon-"

"It's Jason," said Jason again.

"-Jason suggests, all those things you just mentioned could be _solved_ a lot faster-"

"-_Or_, they will escalate a lot faster, instead!" said James, his own voice now raised too. They stood, facing one another and each determinedly glaring the other down. Prefects all around them, scattered amongst the various chairs and lounges in the Heads' room, were growing restless, checking their watches and sighing impatiently.

"Maybe we ought to try discussing something else-" began Remus.

"No!" barked both the Head Boy and Girl.

"You're just not seeing reason," said Lily to James again, hands on her hips as she scowled at him. "What if my bag splits in the middle of corridor? If I could use magic, I could fix it in two seconds flat-"

"What if someone bumps accidently into another student, and that person just decides to curse him for it because they can use magic in the corridors now?" interjected James heatedly. "Teachers and Prefects can't always spot these things quick enough, and before you know it, half the students in the hallway are blasting each other-"

"It's called a _shield_, Potter, most of us know how to use one," she snapped over the top of him, "I hardly think that-"

"Uh, Lily?" tried Remus again.

"James?" endeavored Frank timidly.

They both ignored them.

The other Prefects looked desperately at Remus and Frank as Lily and James' argument escalated still, each struggling to be heard over the top of the other, the Prefect meeting (and indeed the other Prefects) all but forgotten. Frank and Remus exchanged looks.

"Uh, prefects dismissed?" said Frank, looking questioningly at Remus who nodded, shrugging. Many fervent sighs of relief were heard and a general stampede toward the door ensued, Remus and Frank remaining (reluctantly) behind. Lily and James argued louder still, oblivious to their departed audience, and had even abandoned all pretence that their dispute wasn't personal.

"If you could even just _pretend_ to think about anyone else but yourself-" James was shouting, but Lily cut across him again.

"-I am _too_!" yelled Lily, actually stamping her foot in frustration. "Not that you, the most self-centered, know-it-all, arrogant prat in the universe would know that-"

"Oh, shove off," said James furiously. "You wouldn't even know-"

"Just leave me alone!" Lily cried heatedly, her face dangerously close to his.

James scowled at her, almost folded against his chest. "Fine, I will!"

"Good!" said Lily, turning on her heel and storming off to her bedroom, James doing the same. Two loud bangs echoed as each door was magically slammed shut.

A stunned Remus and Frank sat in silence. Slowly, Frank – looking dazed – turned to Remus.

"Any idea what that was about?"

Remus looked ruefully at him. "Nope," he sighed, "none at all."

"Good," said Frank, relieved, "me either."

* * *

"Remind me what Binns was saying about the creation of Azkaban in class today?" Lily prompted James, weeks later, from her position across the coffee table from him. She looked slightly confused, chewing on the end of her quill absentmindedly as she struggled to remember.

James looked slightly amused, a copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ resting in his hands. "As if I would know what he said," stated James. "Since when does anyone ever listen to him droning on?"

Lily frowned at him, before her expression changed to a pleading look. "Come on," she cajoled him. "I know you know. Just tell me so I can finish this stupid mid-term essay."

He sighed, then seemed to give in. "Alright, fine," he said. "It was magically created in 1568, meant to be used as a remote spell-testing facility by the Department of Magical Experiments, so that it wouldn't attract the attention of muggles. It's Unplottable, see?" She nodded and he went on. "Then, after they realized the need to be closer to extensive medical treatment for when the experiments failed or went wrong – highlighted by the death of Mervil Hughes-Latriscule in 1572 – it was abandoned for several years after the Department moved back to the mainland."

She was scribbling furiously in her notebook, trying to remember all he was saying – it would save her looking in the Library later anyway. "How do you spell Latriscule?"

"Then, in 1692," he continued without answering her, "in the aftermath of the war led by the Dark wizard Nanthiland, the Ministry needed somewhere bigger, and stronger, than the prison used at the time – Arcaron, near the Swiss Alps – to house the prisoners. So they decided to use the island that the Department of Magical Experiments had left vacant, and called it Azkaban." Finished, he sat back looking pleased with himself, and went back to his book.

"And what about the Azkaban guards?" Lily's voice interrupted his attempt at returning to his own study. "What are they called again?"

He looked surprised at this. "You really don't know? I thought everyone knew that. The guards are called Dementors, remember?"

"Ohhh," said Lily, recalling. "They're those big scary black ones, aren't they?"

The corners of his mouth twitched amusedly. "And they let you graduate from sixth year?"

"Shut up, you," she said absentmindedly, trying to remember the effects the Dementors inflicted on humans. "What is it they do? Oh, I know," said Lily brightly, "they, like, blow nasty thoughts into the air, don't they?"

His eyebrows rose again. "Er, _no_," he said. "They feed off positive thoughts and memories from the people around them. Then those affected by them are forced to live with only their worst nightmares and images, trapped inside their own heads. Most of the prisoners in Azkaban go insane after their second week there."

He said all of this rather matter-of-factly, and Lily looked stunned as his words sunk in. "But that… that's horrible," she said, shocked.

James shrugged. "Don't break the law, then." He made to go back to his book again, but stopped suddenly and turned back to her, his eyes glittering strangely. "You know what the Dementors' worst weapon is, though, don't you?"

She shook her head, as he knew she would, and he stood, speaking in a low voice.

"When a Dementor wants to completely destroy a person, they use the most horrible power available to them," he said quietly, and the candles lighting the room flickered and dimmed. He summoned his robe, flicking the hood over his head, and began walking slowly toward her. "They lock in on the person – already immersed in the most harrowing tormenting details of their own lives…" He stepped around the coffee table, in front of her now, her heartbeat quickening. "And they bear down on them…" He placed a hand on either side of her armchair, leaning in toward her; her breathing was short and uneven. "And then they lower their hood-" He did so, his face now inches from hers "-and then…" James paused, looking her dead in the eye, and cocked his mouth as if to kiss her… Lily was barely breathing…"They suck out their victim's soul."

And then, quite suddenly, he was on the other side of the room again, the lights glaring at her as they resumed their usual glow. Lily's cheeks were on fire, but he observed her quite calmly, already seated in the chair opposite her once more. "It's called the Dementor's Kiss," he said quietly.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again almost instantly, wordlessly. "I – wow," she said, a little breathless. "That's… horrible…"

He remained quiet and contemplative, thankfully looking at the fire instead of her. "There are a lot of suicides in Azkaban," he said, the glow of the fire flickering in his eyes. "Better to die than to become a soulless, empty shell."

His words haunted her still much later, as she lay in bed, feeling uneasy. Lily tried to block out the image of Dementors, crawling in through her windows and bearing down upon her powerless form, from her mind. She took a long time to fall asleep that night, still thinking of the Dementors, and one in particular… she fell asleep wondering if James Potter had very nearly laid his own Dementor's Kiss on her, and what she would have done if he had.

* * *

"I've been thinking," whispered Ally. It was their free period on Friday morning, and they were in the library, trying to get a handle on the seemingly never-ending stack of homework that plagued them. Madam Pince's hawk-like eyes surveyed the library keenly, forcing them to keep their voices low. "It's already the middle of October, and we haven't been to Varco's _once._"

"I know," sighed Lily unhappily. "I've just been so busy with all this Prefect stuff, and homework, and patrols, and-"

"I never thought I'd see the day," said Ally with a smirk, "when Lily Evans would turn down a night out in favour of doing homework_, on a Friday night_! We used to go to Varco's practically every week." The nightspot she spoke of was a hidden hotspot in Hogsmeade, known only to a very small group of Hogwarts students, all of whom seemed to share an unwritten vow to never acknowledge the existence of the other's awareness of the club, nor speak of it outside its walls. Lily and Ally, after stumbling upon Varco's late in to their fifth year, had been regular visitors and vigilante secret-keepers of the nightclub.

"_You_ try being Head Girl, then," retorted Lily, stabbing viciously with her quill at the photo of her Transfiguration text's author, Miranda Goshawk. "All this roster crap and Hogsmeade-trip planning is doing my head in!"

Ally giggled, then - when Lily threw her a quick glare - recovered herself. "Okay, okay, I see your point," she said quickly, "but doesn't that just prove that we _definitely_ should go? I mean, think about it – a night of drink, dancing and flirting – what could be better?"

Lily smiled grudgingly. Maybe it was exactly what she needed… and tomorrow was Saturday, after all…

"You can get all your homework done tomorrow," Ally wheedled, reading her mind. "Come on, Lil… you know you want to…"

"All right," agreed Lily, grinning happily at the thought. "Let's do it."

"Yes!" cheered Ally loudly, forgetting herself. Madam Pince, however, did not need reminding.

"If you cannot contain yourselves, ladies, I will have to ask you to leave. Really, Miss Evans," she said, glaring at Lily, "I would've expected better of you… Head Girl…" The librarian walked away, still muttering irritably to herself. Lily smirked sideways at Ally.

"Imagine what she would say if she knew what we were planning, then," whispered Lily, smiling excitedly as she thought of the night of dancing and debauchery they had ahead of them.

* * *

"I cannot wait for this," said Ally excitedly, slipping silver hoop through her ear. "Seriously, we haven't gone out dancing in _forever_!"

"Totally," agreed Lily. After they had decided to make the trip into Hogsmeade, the rest of their classes had seemed to drag by. When Arithmancy had finally ended, the two of them had bolted a quick dinner in the Great Hall, before hastily making their way upstairs to begin their primping in Lily's dorm. "And this," she said now to Ally, "is why being Head Girl is totally worth it – uninterrupted mirror time!" She laughed contentedly, applying a golden-brown shade of eyeshadow to her lid. They didn't even have to share the bathroom, as James was mysteriously missing in action.

"You are so lucky, you know," said Ally, looking forlorn. "This morning, Hestia was going through her usual, pre-deadline, 'my-essay's-only-fifteen-hundred-scrolls-long-do-you-think-that'll-be-good-enough?' meltdown and she totally spat all over the bathroom mirror; it was so disgusting."

Lily giggled again, "I can just imagine. You should consider wearing a rain coat." Lily, still wearing only her favourite white cashmere dressing gown over her underwear, finished her makeup and walked over to her excellent closet. She stood back as she opened the doors, assessing her option. "Does Frank know you're going out tonight?"

Ally looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well… no," she said, shifting in her spot on the bed. "But I only didn't say anything because he's slightly – you know – protective. And I didn't want him to worry. It's like, sometimes, he doesn't think I can take of myself."

"Then tell him you can," said Lily, fingering the ruffles on a short, silver number.

Ally looked surprised. "I didn't think of that," she said, her expression one of slight wonder.

Lily rolled her eyes at her best friend, pulling a gold, sequined mini-dress from one of the many racks. "Ally, you're so blonde sometimes, it's unbelievable," she said. "What do you think of this?"

"Ooh, that's cute," approved Ally, who was already clad in a strapless little black dress and thick, silver wrist cuff. "Is that new?"

"Yeah, I picked it up in Milan during the summer," Lily informed her, pulling the dress on. It was tight-fitting, with sequins splashed around the neck and the hem; the colour flattered her pale skin and flaming hair.

"Yep, that one's the one," said Ally assuredly, appraising her. "Wear it with those strappy Louboutins and you're all set."

Lily obliged, looking at herself in the mirror, and agreeing with her best friend silently; she had her outfit for the evening. She glanced at the clock hanging above the door to the common room. "God, it's almost ten already!" she said, shocked. "We better get going if we want to make a decent night of it."

They grabbed warm coats – Lily's in white cashmere and Ally's a classic trench – and their bags, heading out the door swiftly. James had still not appeared in the Head dorm. The two girls clambered out of the portrait hole, ignoring Sir Cadogan's remonstrations on their 'unladylike attire', and started to creep downstairs, sticking to the shadows the whole way.

"Merlin," breathed Ally, after they had ducked behind their fourth statue in order to avoid a ghost (this time, the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw), "its time's like these I wish I had an invisibility cloak."

"Not much further now," whispered Lily, as they rounded the third-floor corridor corner. A statue of a one-eyed, humpbacked witch loomed before them, and they hurried towards it. Lily pulled her wand from her coat pocket, tapped the witch, and whispered, _"Dissendium!_"

Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, four boys emerged in front of them.

"Oi!" said Sirius, looking astounded, "what are you two doing down here?"

"Ally?" said Frank.

"_Frank?_" said Ally.

"We were just-" began Lily.

"Swanning off to Hogsmeade?" supplied James.

"Where did you even _come_ from, anyway?" asked Ally.

"That's not important," said Remus quickly.

"Where are you lot going?" inquired Lily.

"Where are _you_ lot going?" countered Sirius.

"Nowhere!" said Ally and Frank together.

They all looked at each other. Then –

"We're going to a club," conceded Sirius, as the other three boys groaned quietly. "What? They might as well know-"

"You're going to Varco's?" asked Lily, surprised.

"I never said we were-" began Sirius, looking chastised. "Hang on – how do _you_ know about Varco's?"

Ally and Lily looked at each other. "Well…"

"We've been going there for, like, a year now," boasted Remus with a shifty grin.

"We've been going since fifth year," countered Ally, and the boys shared a stunned look.

"You girls managed to find out about a secret club before we did?" said an astounded Sirius. "Wow. I might have to hand in my Maurauder badge."

"Your _what_?" Lily asked, confused.

"Never mind," James said hastily.

An awkward silence descended upon them; no one seemed to know quite what to say or do. All the while, the statue of the one-eyed witch stood open in front of them. Ally threw Lily a desperate look.

"Well, we'll just be off, then," said Lily suddenly. "See you guys tomorrow!" She made quickly for the entryway into Hogsmeade, Ally right behind her, but before she could even move to climb in – which, come to think of it, was starting to seem impossible in this dress – a hand grabbed her wrist.

"Not so fast," said Remus, and she and Ally turned slowly back to face the boys. "Look, we may as well concede the fact that we have violated the Varco's code and get this out in the open. You know about it; so do we. We may as well go together," he finished resolutely.

Next to him, Sirius and Frank nodded, James watching on silently and without pronouncement. Lily's eyes flickered toward him, his face, as usual, a mystery to her.

"Fine," said Lily; next to her, Ally nodded happily, walking forward and taking Frank's handed.

Sirius smiled. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the statue.

"Er – no," said Lily awkwardly, pulling her coat tighter around her. "I'm not exactly… dressed… for –this…"

He grinned wolfishly. "I know."

She slugged him in the arm, reluctantly giggling. "Get lost, you," she said, pushing him toward the one-eyed witch. The last thing she saw of him was his rather wide grin.

Remus, followed by Frank and Ally, climbed too inside the statue and out of sight. James and Lily stood facing each other. Lily felt herself growing flushed and discomfited at his probing gaze; why was it he could make her feel so naked, so vulnerable? She tipped her head towards the gateway.

"You first," she said, then followed him in.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, bags, coats and scarves stowed in the coat room, they emerged into the main area of Varco's.

"God, I missed this place," giggled Ally, her blue eyes surveying the room. It was dark, dimly lit only above the bar, and slightly dirty, but it was already pulsing with hundreds of scantily-clad witches and wizards, and heavy beats thudded from every direction. A smile spread slowly across Lily's face, the music pulsing through her ears; she became aware of James watching her, a small smile written lazily on his own face. She turned to him, her eyes quizzical but teasing: being here, in this crazy atmosphere, had brought a strange sense of calm to her; this was her place, it was where she belonged. She felt none of the discomfit she had earlier felt around him, only a strange excitement… and curiosity.

A tall, dark-haired gentleman was making his way over to their group. "Lily, Ally!" He greeted the girls happily, kissing both their cheeks. "I've been waiting for you both to come visit me since the new term started."

"We've been busy," said Ally, smirking. "This one-" she indicated Lily "-got herself named Head Girl!"

The man's attractive face assumed a solemn expression, as though Ally had informed him Lily had actually died. "Oh, Lily, I am _so_ sorry," he said, as Ally shook her head tragically alongside him; they boys exchanged looks. Lily simply laughed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, Michael," she said, smiling captivatingly, "you haven't changed at all!"

Sirius' jaw dropped as he watched the exchange. "That's Michael _Varco_?" he asked in a stunned whisper.

"As in, _Varco's_, Varco?" asked Remus quietly, looking surprised.

"It is," confirmed Ally in a low voice, out the corner of her mouth. Sirius had yet to recover from this revelation.

"You girls know the owner of the club," he stated in a disbelieving undertone. "Forget handing my badge in – I'm just going to be standing over there in the corner, hanging my head in shame." James and Frank laughed quietly as Lily and Michael turned back to them.

"It's lovely to meet you all," said Michael to the boys; Lily had obviously introduced them to the owner. "Enjoy anything you like this evening; it is, of course, on me. Now, if you'll excuse, there's a matter about a vampire and a Bloody Mary I must attend to." He kissed both Ally and Lily's cheeks again, ducking off into the crowd of people and disappearing.

"He doesn't care that you're still underage?" inquired Remus, as they made their way over to the bar.

"In those dresses? I don't think so." Sirius sniggered and Ally whacked him on the arm, Frank chuckling at the exchange.

"How do you know him so well?" James asked Lily in a low voice, an odd look clouding his dark eyes.

She looked at him questioningly, her own voice quiet and her eyebrow arched. "How do you think?" She walked ahead of him to the bar, feeling his eyes on her; she couldn't help but smirk a little triumphantly. Sirius was already up and ordering (as usual).

"We'll have-" he counted quickly "-six shots of Firewhisky." He grinned; Ally groaned; Frank, Remus and James smiled as though sharing a joke; and Lily shrugged.

"Bring it on," she said, a smile tugging at her lips; Sirius and Frank cheered. Lily's eyelids were heavy and full with excitement, anticipation and hunger; she surveyed the dance floor with a growing desire to join the numerous bodies already swirling to the beats.

"Here," said Remus, passing her a shot of the magical alcohol, which was characterized by the bright purple flames dancing along the liquid's surface.

Sirius raised his glass to the group. "To an excellent evening!" he proclaimed, and as one, they downed their shots. Lily gasped as the fiery liquid blazed a trail to her entrails, instantly livening her. Ally, beside her, was pulling a face, but Sirius was already ordering more shots… they downed them… then another, and another… Lily grinned as she swallowed her latest 'refreshment'; she slammed her glass on to the bar in time with someone else… she looked up and saw James. God, he looked good tonight; the difference the loss of his glasses had made to his already ridiculously-handsome face… he seemed to look her up and down, but her eyes didn't leave his face… she smiled slowly, and his crinkled amusedly as he watched her…

Suddenly, Ally was pulling her on to the dance floor, Lily laughing delightedly as her friend spun her around before they both giggled uncontrollably, already moving to the beat as a new song started up, its beat heavy and seductive. Lily closed her eyes, the music flowing through her; she swirled her hips, the gold dress splaying out around her… she opened her eyes and looked up, only to see James' eyes still on her… she smirked a little, raising an eyebrow questioningly but almost provocatively… she giggled, still dancing as his eyes never left her swaying figure…

Ally grabbed at her arm again, giggling still. "Come back to the bar with me, I want to see Frank," said the blonde girl breathlessly, her eyes alight at the thought – and with the alcohol, thought Lily, and as she ordered another round of shots for them all, she forgot that she was Head Girl, forgot that they were only students at a school which would expel them instantly if they were caught… the thought somehow delighted her befuddled brain. Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out Sirius and Remus both dancing with girls she didn't recognize, and Ally wrapping herself around a grinning Frank… Lily turned, flipping her hair away, and saw James, more handsome than ever… Lily smiled her beautiful smile, slowly spreading it across her face in the most entrancing way she knew. She stepped closer to him, his arm sliding automatically to her hip, holding her there…

Feeling totally, ecstatically wasted, she looked him dead in the eye, cocking her mouth toward his, and said three life-changing words: "Dance with me," she told him breathlessly, and without another word, pulled him onto the floor behind her.

It was crowded and dark, and Lily was dancing before they even reached the top-most level. James was right behind her. He spun her around, his rough grip delightedly her alcohol-drenched mind, and suddenly they were moving, in time to the beat, the blood rushing through her… his gaze was dark and glittering, and the danger in it thrilled her… she swirled her hips against his, watched him as his eyes never left hers, his arms winding their way around her waist and pulling her closer… his face inched closer to hers… and suddenly James was kissing her, as Lily had never been kissed in her life… her hands where in his hair, around his neck, on his chest; he pulled her closer than ever… surely this was rapture, surely this was fate… and then she was lost completely, abandoning herself to his kiss, and Lily felt the very last shred of reason leave her body, immersed in the feel of his body on hers…


	3. You Tell Me to Breathe Easy For a While

**(A/N: **For everyone who has ever lamented over the ending of GWTW (and, like me, was rather disappointed withthe piece of fairy-tale fanfiction that was the 'sequel', _Scarlett_), I suggested reading _Rhett Butler's People_ by Donald McCraig.)

**

* * *

You Tell Me to Breathe Easy For a While**

Something was stabbing her forehead from the inside out. As a muffled groan, escaped her lips, Lily raised her right hand to her temple, wincing at the pain even that small movement caused. She suddenly became aware of something quite heavy, slung over her waist. She opened her eyes to see what it was, briefly wincing once more at the searingly-bright light in her room – she cursed herself for not shutting the blinds the night before – before slamming her eyes shut again. But not before she registered what the heavy object draped across her middle was: an arm. A _male_ arm.

_Oh God,_ she thought desperately, _oh God, oh God, ohGodohGodohGodohGod... _Slowly, painfully, eyes shut tight, she turned her head to the left, and (taking a deep breath), cracked one eye open.

A shock of messy, dark hair greeted her. Lily slammed her eyes shut again. There seemed to be a loud, piercing noise rattling through her head, sounding oddly like a scream. Her mouth hanging open, she lay there, stunned, his arm still pulling her towards his warm (and decidedly _naked_) body. Which, come to think of it, would probably be the best adjective to describe her own current state of dress.

Lily couldn't believe it. She'd slept with _James Potter?_ Unable to think (that damn piercing just wouldn't go away), she went with her instincts and decided to get as far away from this ghastly situation as possible. But how? His arm, of course, still trapped her in the bed with him. Perhaps she could just – sort of... slide... out from under his arm? Yes, maybe that would do it. Sucking in her stomach, she tentatively reached for his left hand, hoping against hope that he wouldn't respond to her renewed touch. She grabbed his wrist (saying a mental prayer of thanks when he slept on) and, flattening herself to the bed, slowly, slowly, lifted it from her waist, before placing it at his side, where he grabbed at the sheet instead. Lily slid out of bed as smoothly as possible, somehow managing to miss banging her head on the post she hit every morning (another quick prayer, this time coupled with a fervent sigh of relief).

Standing beside the bed, looking down at James Potter's supine, sleeping form, she became suddenly and intently _aware_ that she was, indeed, stark naked. Maybe she could grab the sheet off of him, then sprint to the bathroom? No, she'd already gambled her fair share of good luck today just getting out of bed without him noticing. Her wand, she noticed, was rather unhelpfully resting on the bedside table nearest James. Lily cursed inwardly, before spotting her favourite white cashmere dressing gown draped over the chaise in front of the window, a mere three feet away. Her heart leapt. Hands clamped across her chest, she took one awkward step toward it, her balance slightly compromised after last night's intake of (what she unfortunately remembered, fighting back a nauseous churn in her stomach, to be) numerous shots of Firewhisky. Tentatively, she took another step, fingers outstretched, before her foot snagged on the strap of last night's bra, which ad – until now – lay abandoned and forgotten on the floor. Stumbling, slipping, she almost fell; without thinking, she swore loudly.

The male in her bed stirred and rolled over, the sheet falling from his grasp. Lily froze, unable to think. His deep yawn stretched his exceptionally-well-toned chest, distracting her momentarily; wildly, she whispered, "_Accio!_" Somehow, amazingly, the sheet flew from under the bed cover and wrapped itself around her, just as his eyes creaked open, adjusting to the brilliant morning glow inside her room quickly.

Too quickly, it seemed. He recognized her frozen form almost immediately.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice gruff from sleep. He raised a hand to rub his tired eyes – a hand that had, until quite recently, been clutching her to his spectacular chest. Suddenly, inexplicably, she wanted to be back in that position.

"H-hi," she managed. He didn't seem to be in the same hurry as she was to put as much distance as was earthly possible between them (Lily had been thinking, Kenya).

James rolled over to check the time on the clock next to him, the bed cover slipping lower on his waist as he did so. Lily blushed and ducked her head instinctively; their clothes, scattered haphazardly over her normally impeccable room – kept that way by vigilante house elves – caught her attention once more and she ducked (sheet still clenched tightly around her) to pick up her abandoned garments.

"So, I'm just going to..." he turned to face her again, the curious look on his face inexplicably making her mouth go dry. _Kenya_, she thought firmly. "Uh, I'm going to shower. In the bathroom? Or something. I..."

He simply nodded, borrowing her wand to summon the newspaper from their lounge. Within seconds, he was buried behind the _Prophet_, seemingly content to ignore her and their current, life-changing situation. Lily gaped at him momentarily, disbelievingly, before snatching her wand from beside him and stalking off to the bathroom they shared.

Suddenly, she was furious. How _dare_ he dismiss her so easily? Didn't he _understand _the implications of this – namely, his being in her bed, where he seemed so stupidly, perfectly content? She twisted the shower's taps to a scalding heat – just the way she liked it – and flung the sheet across the room at the wall that divided them, where it made a pitiful, highly unsatisfactory impact. Still seething, she stepped under the hot needles of water coming from the shower nozzle and, taking a deep breath, closed her eyes.

Half an hour later, considerably cleaner and somewhat calmer, Lily returned to her room dressed only in a towel, heading straight for her closet. Some breakfast, she reasoned, ignoring her churning stomach, would help her think. Plus, clothing and shoes would certainly make for a quicker escape from this room their dorm, and most importantly, from –

"Have you heard about this debate over the use of Unforgivables by Aurors?" came a voice. Lily jumped about a foot in the air, dropping the plain pair of white slip-on sneakers she'd selected (comfort reigned over looks in such desperate times).

"You're still here," she gasped, in James' direction. "You're in my bed. You're still here, _in my bed."_

He looked down at himself, still perched quite comfortably in her four-poster. "So I am."

Lily couldn't believe it. How could he not get that this was a horrible, earth-shattering mistake that they both needed to pretend had never happened, pronto? Her mouth hung open momentarily before she remembered to move; _just get the hell out of here._ She ducked quickly inside the closet, out of his sight, and hastily changed into a pair of jeans and white hooded sweatshirt, pulling on her sneakers. She exited the closet, face burning, and fled from the room.

She was three floors below the Head Dorms before she stopped running. Panting, she leant on the wall behind her, next to a stone bust of Paracelsus. Lily was barely able to restrain herself from banging her head repeatedly against it. Why, _why_ did she have to go to that club? Why had she drank so much? Why, for Merlin's sake, had she even danced with James, let alone given into his advances? Thankfully, most of the night was somewhat of a blur; she could remember only snatches of its events: shot after shot of Firewhisky, burning its way to her liver... James' eyes, heavy-lidded and seductive across the room... his body against hers... Lily shook herself. Mustn't. Think. Of. Him. Oh God, where was a bucket of cold water when you needed one? She couldn't go to the Great Hall like this. Her stomach, despite the slightly queasy feeling still apparent in her gut, rumbled loudly. _The kitchens,_ she thought, with a stroke of brilliance. Of course – great food, great service, and no inquiring reasons as to why her face was a red as her hair.

She set off at a brisk walk, thankfully not running into any other students or ghosts, and in just a few minutes had arrived at the kitchens. A dozen delicious smells invaded her senses at once, and her stomach rumbled hungrily again. The house elves, meanwhile, greeted her cheerfully as they rushed around, one in particular.

"Miss Lily!" squealed Blonky, hugging her tight around her middle.

Lily smiled down at the excited elf. "Hello, Blonky," she said cheerfully, patting her on the head affectionately. "Do you think I might be able to get something for breakfast? I just can't face going to the Great Hall today." She smiled ruefully, and the elf seemed to giggle to herself.

"Has Miss Lily gone out being silly again?" asked Blonky, shaking her head but smiling all the same. "It is past twelve! We is serving lunch now, Miss Lily, but we will fix you something – one moment-" The elf ducked off, joining the mad rush of hundreds of elves already cooking. Lily smiled contently at the familiar scene, almost forgetting everything that had happened that morning, and took a seat at the table nearest the sink, where golden goblets, silver cutlery and piles of plates were washing and drying themselves.

Blonky returned not two minutes later, a tray of items held in front of her. She heaved it on to the table in front of her, her smile wide and her voice higher than ever. "Here you is, Miss Lily!" she said happily. "An apple, some pumpkin juice, and Miss Lily's favourite: a cheese, bacon and egg sandwich."

Lily almost sighed with happily. "Thanks so much, Blonky," said Lily gratefully. "You always take care of me."

The elf beamed and sped off again, leaving her to plough hungrily into the sandwich, her number-one hangover killer. Blonky had perfected the art of the sandwich, and despite Lily's extremely precise instructions to Mario, back at the mansion, she'd not been able to recreate it. So she'd resorted to having as many as possible while she still had access to the Hogwarts kitchen.

Fifteen minutes of contented chomping later, Blonky returned to her side. "Was Miss Lily's lunch alright?" Blonky asked, clearing the plates quickly.

Lily leaned back in her chair, her stomach finally at ease. "Blonky, when is it ever not?" she said, grinning. "I swear, I'm going to have to kidnap you when I finally leave this place. What will I do without my hangover-cure?"

Blonky looked at her half-reproachfully, half-delighted. "Miss Lily is being silly. Why is Miss Lily even going out at night when she could get in trouble?" The elf lowered her voice. "These are dark times, Miss Lily, surely you is knowing this?"

She was a little startled by the elf's warning; she leaned forward in concerned curiosity, frowning softly. "What do you mean, Blonky? You're not talking about Lord Volde-?"

But the elf's eyes widened and she shook her head wildly, squealing, "We do not speak his name! He is a bad man, Miss Lily, a very Dark wizard, and Miss Lily should be being more careful!"

Lily struggled for words as she thought this caution over; some of the house elves, however, had looked over at Blonky's outburst, many with terrified eyes. Blonky, looking around, leaned closer to Lily and spoke again, this time in a hushed voice.

"We is hearing many things, Miss Lily, even here in the kitchens... many stories of attacks and killings... he is a bad man, the very worst, Miss Lily, and you must be being vigilant in these dark times..." She lowered her voice still further, and Lily leaned forward, her heart beating rapidly, to hear the elf. "They is saying... they is saying that He Who Must Not be Named is especially after muggle-born witches and wizards. _Miss Lily must be more careful!"_

Lily didn't move or speak, still stunned by the elf's words. Blonky sent her one last, wide-eyed, fleeting look and hurried off to help with a perilously-balanced pot of stew being juggled by five house elves. She sat there, watching the scene blankly, her eyes not really seeing...

...but her mind was reeling. Blonky was right, she was in danger – they all were, if this wizard was as powerful as they said – and she had been flippant, stupid, to think they could waltz off to Hogsmeade, out of the safety of the castle, in the dead of the night and proceed to get much, much more inebriated than she could be possibly afford to be should she need her to draw her wand... It was foolish, thoughtless, and utterly _ludicrous _thing to do. What had she been thinking? What had any of them been thinking?

Slowly, she got up and left the kitchens, making her way back to the Head Dorms without thinking of where she was going; it was only when she passed the painting of Rockwell the Reckless that she realised she had made her way back to the floor of her dormitory. What the hell was she doing back here, she wondered, panicked; James was right around the corner (and probably still in her bed, the idiot)! Her mind seized once more on the idea of Kenya, and she was already planning her escape route, through the Entrance Hall and out the secure front gates of the castle –

But no, she realised suddenly, this was _insane_ – leaving the castle again, after the warning Blonky had just given her, the stupidity she herself had felt when she'd recognised the truth in the elf's words? If anything, the advice she'd received put this whole, overblown saga into perspective: it was humiliating, yes, but it wasn't life-shattering; she could recover from this (as long as Sirius never found out, or she'd never hear the end of it), couldn't she? It was a mistake, after all, and James too seemed perfectly happy to – well, not ignore it – but certainly, he seemed nowhere near as keen as her to acknowledge the incident as the end of their world as they knew it. _Just move on_, she told herself firmly, squaring her shoulders and marching determinedly towards Sir Cadogan. She would just face up to him – and be _coherent_ this time – and say, quite calmly, that it was a mistake, that they should just deal with it, move on, and never speak of it again –

"Scurvy knave!" she announced resolutely to the fat little knight; the portrait swung forwards and she marched in, back straight and chin high, to be greeted with –

The empty common room. She stiffened, listening for sound; but no, it seemed James really wasn't there.

She slumped suddenly, letting out a breath she'd not known she had been holding. "Thank _God_," she said to herself. "I was so not ready for that conversation."

* * *

A week passed. Lily and James were polite to each other but distant. Lily, especially – for all her previous grown-up decisions to be straightforward and unembarrassed about the whole incident – skirted around James; she mostly stayed in her room when he was around, or instead insisted Ally visit them when she could not avoid his presence; she was now doubly glad that, as James had suggested, they continued to patrol separately in order to have more time for homework each. Lily said nothing to Ally about what had happened between them, and Ally, who had taken the plunge with Frank as well, was too excited by her own news to be much interested in what had happened to Lily and James after they had made their way back from the club. Apparently, neither Sirius, Frank nor Remus had noted any kind of unusual interaction between the Head students on Saturday night, for which Lily was immensely thankful, but she couldn't help noticing little things between them her herself, as though he had suddenly become an immense source of curiosity to her ... the way he ran his hands through his hair, just as she had done... the glittering of his dark eyes... the softness of his lips. She now often found herself staring inquisitively at James across the classroom, Gryffindor table or lounge room, and had even copped a nasty wallop from an adult Mandrake in Herbology for her distraction.

Their friends, however, barely seemed to notice anything unusual about Lily and James' interactions since then, either: it was now late October, and the demands placed upon them by teachers, homework, Quidditch and other assorted clubs, allegiances and obligations were at a greater level than ever before. Gryffindor narrowly defeated Ravenclaw in a hotly-contested and rather violent match; prefect patrols were extended by an hour due to a record number of curfew violations; NEWT-level classes now became much more practical-magic based and thus far more demanding. Attacks by Lord Voldemort and his followers – now widely known as Death Eaters – were growing more frequent and more terrifying; the emotional pressure caused by the turbulent status of the wizarding world multiplied their stress. Ally, a half-blood whose mother was muggle like her parents, shared Lily's worries about the Death Eaters' targeting of muggles and muggle-borns. The whole school, in fact, seemed to be slightly on edge, with students worried about the safety of their families and rumours swirling about the emergence of a pro-Voldemort group within Hogwarts.

By Sunday, after a week of tests, patrols, and distressing headlines, Lily was utterly exhausted. Having finished a nasty four-scroll essay on the importance of proper pronunciation to good Charmwork, Lily wandered out into the warm lounge tiredly. She flopped down on to the two-seater couch, legs hanging off the side nearest the fire. James sat opposite her, reading quietly. The clock above the fireplace read quarter-past-four, though the darkened, rain-lashing skies outside suggested it was much later.

"God, I'm so tired," she groaned, stretching her arms out behind on the flat of the couch. Her t-shirt rode up a little over her flat stomach, and she thought she saw his eyes flicker toward her bared skin momentarily before they returned, just as quickly to his book (_Gone With the Wind_, again).

"Mmm," was all he said, distractedly. Lily sat up and watched him abstractedly (as she had found herself inexplicably doing so often these past few days), forgetting herself and their awkward relationship in her weariness. His feet were resting on the coffee table as usual, but rather more uncommonly, he was wearing his glasses. They looked cute, she realised, perched on the end of his straight nose, his brow furrowed as he read.

"I've never read it," she said suddenly.

He looked at her, confused. It looked good on him – but then, everything did (even her, she thought, then mentally slapped herself). "Sorry?"

"The book," said Lily, gesturing. "Is it good? I've seen you reading it before." Immediately, but too late, she noticed her slip: now he'd think she had been watching him, or something. As though she were _interested_. Which she wasn't, of course.

Thankfully, he ignored her comment for the most part, only raising his eyebrows slightly. "Well," he said, still looking a little surprised, "there's this girl, named Scarlett, and a guy, called Rhett."

"Really?" said Lily, as sarcastically as she could manage, "what an original concept."

He gave her a look, and she closed her mouth again, but gestured to him to go on. "So, Scarlett," he went on, looking at her as though daring her to interrupt again; she said nothing. "Scarlett is sixteen, and she lives in Georgia with her parents in the late 1800s, just before the time of the American Civil War. Now, Scarlett isn't really all that beautiful, but no man can see past that because she's charming and beguiling. She's very popular and has many beaux-"

"Beaux?" repeated Lily, unable to hide a snigger.

"Yes, beaux," said James again, glaring at her. "She's very spoilt and very selfish, because she's always been given everything she wanted, but she's also vivacious, stubborn and very determined.

"You know, I like the sound of her," said Lily, smiling.

He looked amused. "You would," he said, a glint in his eye. She looked at him, a little bewildered, but he shook his head as if to disregard his comment, and went on. "And then there's Rhett," he continued. "Rhett's got a bit of a reputation, but he's very good looking and can be charming, just like Scarlett, when he wants to be. Rhett sees right through her instantly, the very first time he lays eyes on her, when she's pouring her heart out to this other guy, Ashley – an intellectual type, and not like Scarlett at all – next to the fireplace at Ashley's house. And even though Rhett sees her at her absolute worst, when she's being more selfish than ever, throwing a tantrum because Ashley is with someone else – she actually throws a vase at Rhett, can you imagine? – and even though Rhett is a smart guy, shrewd and unable to be charmed by her like every other man-"

"Is he arrogant and hard-headed, too?" interjected Lily, interested. "Because, you know, I've met guys _just_ like that before, and they've all turned out to be _such_ little berks, don't you-?"

James was standing, moving over to where she sat, and her eyes followed his every step. He really was ridiculously good-looking, she thought once more, as he took a seat next to her. "And even despite all this," he said over the top of her, raising an eyebrow and removing his glasses simultaneously, "even though he knows it'll never end well..." he paused, Lily hanging reluctantly onto his every word as she sat next to him, gripping the armrest... "He can't help falling in love with her."

Lily's breath caught in her throat. "Just like that?" she whispered, eyes round with astonishment, like a child's; his face seemed, rather unexpectedly, very close to her own.

"Just like that," he said. He seemed to look her up and down suddenly, and her heart, without reason, began to pound; a feeling like sickening excitement twisted her stomach. His gaze lingered on her mouth; Lily was breathing slowly, her eyes on his and suddenly heavy with desire. "Rhett just knows, when he sees her... he'll never be the same again..." And then his mouth was on hers, kissing her the way she'd longed to be kissed ever since the other night... His hands slid up and down her slim frame, sending mini-explosions to her every nerve ending... she was drowning, she was flying, all for one, tiny, amazing moment...

But reality returned once more, slamming into her consciousness with the force of a RocketRacer. "James," she murmured, pulling away hastily, "I can't do this... we can't do this..." He was still kissing her every chance he could get... her protests grew more feeble. "James, I think-"

"Don't think," he said, his voice sexy, gruff, and utterly _James_. She could no longer protest; every kiss weakened her already-flimsy resistance, and in the moment before she was totally lost to his demands and her desire, she had only thought:

_Now you've really gone and done it._

* * *

He stood across from her as she sat at the kitchen bench; always, he was in the position of power. She took a deep breath, eyes flickering uncertainly up to meet his as she picked at her cereal. "James, I really think we should talk about last night-"

"Lily, there's nothing to talk about," he interrupted. He was drinking coffee, plain, black and strong; for some reason, she liked this about him. "So we slept together. Again. It doesn't have to mean anything."

She goggled at him. "And what planet are you living on?" she asked, sarcasm – her only protection – drenching her words. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we live together. _Together_. As in, under the same roof, in the same walls. We share a bathroom, for God's sake. I can't escape you. And when you – you-" She faltered, but the blush on her cheeks said it all.

His dark eyes glittered amusedly. "Yes?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, looking down at her cereal. She pushed it around with the back of her spoon, trying to decide the best way to put her words. Suddenly, however, she burst out. "I can't live like this," she said angrily. "Not when it might happen again. It's not healthy. I mean, it's not like either of us is exactly longing for this to become anything... official..."

"No," he agreed, his face blank once more, as usual. "Obviously."

"So you agree then," she said, her voice firm. "We can't keep doing this."

"Lily," he said, a hand on either side of the bench as he leaned toward her; she struggled to hastily straighten her expression. "What, exactly, is so wrong..." His low voice trailed off as his eyes slid up and down her uniform-clad frame: forget imagining her naked; he had already been treated to that sight (_twice!_ Her brain screamed at her) and this much was very evident in the dangerous glint in his eye. For some reason, the thought of jumping him again now didn't seem so bad... "...with the two of us having a little... fun... every now and then?" He smirked, swallowed the last of his coffee and swept from the kitchen and out the portrait hole.

Only once she heard Sir Cadogan's portrait swing shut was she able to breathe again. Lily's reflection stared back at from the splashback on the other side of the kitchen, white and dazed. But if she completely honest with herself – though she rarely allowed herself to be – there was a very beguiling danger in James' suggestion...

...and it thrilled her.

* * *

Ally sat opposite her at lunch, finished with her soup and now onto a chicken salad. Her friend was half-absorbed in the _Prophet,_ having borrowed it from a fifth year. Lily could see, from where she sat across the table, the front-page headline: _Dark Wizards Kill Muggle Family of Six._ "So, what'd you do last night?" Ally asked absentmindedly as she read her horoscope.

_James_, Lily thought instantly, and her eyes widened at the thought. Ally looked at up her, frowning a little.

"Nothing much," said Lily, smiling reassuringly. "Just – you know – slept on the couch." Well, this was almost true. "I was so tired after I finished that Charms essay, I just crashed."

To her relief, Ally didn't notice her jumpy behaviour. "I know what you mean," concurred Ally, nodding. "That essay nearly wiped me out, I couldn't even be bothered to go visit Frank..."

It was odd, not informing her best friend, her most trusted confidant, of this major news in her life, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell Ally. Lily knew that she would either see it as a sign of Lily's unavowed love for James (a sickening thought) or that James was using her (which, to be fair, went both ways). But then, it was so difficult not to say anything, when Ally was sitting here right in front of her... she had to tell somebody, and the boys (James included) were all the way up the other end of the table... Lily looked at her friend, the words on the tip of her tongue –

"Are you okay?" asked Ally, her expression concerned.

Lily hesitated – now or never – and reached suddenly for the water jug. "I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile. "It's just a stomach ache."

"Oh, look at this," said Ally, looking upset as she (thankfully) turned back to the newspaper. "There was an attack last night on the little wizarding village, Godric's Hollow. A seven-year-old boy was killed!" An uncharacteristic anger was plain on Ally's face. "Those bastards," she said in an undertone, her voice shaking with rage.

"That's horrible," said Lily quietly. She took the paper from Ally, who was too sickened to read further; the story was accompanied by a photo of the boy – a smiling, gap-toothed Leroy Dingle – and another of the houses that the Death Eaters had destroyed. "Wait - doesn't James' family live in Godric's Hollow?"

"Yeah," said Ally, looking surprised as she recalled this. "Although, they would've moved to Ministry Manor in Shepswick when James' father became Minister; all the Ministers for Magic stay there."

Lily contemplated this, the paper still glaring up at her with its shocking headline. It was interesting, really – or disturbing, more like – how little she actually knew about James, his family, his life, when she considered the physical intimacy that had transpired between the two not once, but twice, in the last week. Further from that, even, was the fact that she lived with him – and had been doing so for almost two months now – and she still had no idea what made him tick. Except, apparently, that she knew he liked doing at least one thing... a blush crept across her cheeks.

Ally reached a hand across the table. "Lily, you're all hot," she said, feeling her forehead. "Are you sure you're not feeling unwell?"

_Don't worry about my temperature; I'm only _mentally_ unstable_, Lily thought wildly. "I'm fine, Ally," she repeated. "I told you, I'm just tired."

Her friend looked doubtful, but she dropped her hand dutifully all the same. Lily couldn't look at the paper anymore, not with smiling Leroy Dingle's face beaming up at her; she dropped it, looking around the Hall quickly to remove the image from her mind, but something – no, someone – caught her eye...

James was looking straight at her, and one look at his face told Lily he had seen that heat in her cheeks, seen Ally's hand on her forehead, and that he knew _exactly_ what it was about. Lily's face seemed to freeze as she locked eyes with him, that damn smirk never leaving his face.

* * *

Mid-way through the next week, Lily sat with her friends at the Gryffindor table during breakfast as the owl post arrived. A beautiful snowy owl swooped down to where she, Ally and the boys sat, landing in front of Sirius.

The bird turned toward her, its amber eyes bright, as Sirius untied several scrolls from its leg. "I always wanted a white owl," said Lily wistfully. An owl could quite possibly have been the only thing denied to her by her father, who had very reasonably declined her request for one due to its incongruity in the muggle world, where she returned to every summer.

Sirius grimaced, handing a scroll each to Lily, James and Frank. "Eurgh, they're from Slughorn," he said, looking disgusted. Sirius' loathing of his last name was proliferated by the attention it brought him from their fame-grabbing professor. "There's another Slug Club Party this Friday night. We're supposed to bring someone."

Lily, who was by far Slughorn's favourite student in their year – and probably his whole teaching career – looked equally dismayed. "I don't even have a decent excuse to get out of this one," she whined, regarding her letter sourly. "Why didn't we roster ourselves on patrol for Friday?"

"Don't look at me," said James, disgruntled. "Sirius, can't we have a Quidditch practise? Or something?"

"I don't know what you're all complaining about," said Ally, raising an eyebrow. "You know going to one of these get-togethers guarantees you all O's for the rest of the semester. And at least you got an invite!" Ally had never received an invite to a Slug Club party, despite coming from a family of similar wealth to Lily's (Ally's father was actually a muggle Lord). Lily understood how frustrating it was to come to Hogwarts and suddenly not be regarded as 'upper-class', due to their lower-level blood status (as Ally's mother was a muggle-born witch), and lamented with her friend.

"Don't worry, Al," said Frank, grinning, "I'll drag you along to the torture chamber. You can be my plus-one."

"And Remus, you're coming with me," said Lily grimly. "Because if I go down, I'm taking you with me." He grinned at her fleetingly, digging into a bowl of porridge.

"Trust me, Lily, I'm doing this as a favour to _you_," he countered. "Someone's got to save our little princess from Slughorn's ardent exultations." The sound of the Professor in question's voice coming from nearby brought a sudden halt to their conversation. Slughorn, who had been chatting to a pair of fifth year boys (one of whom's father was Head of Design & Production at RocketRacer Broom Industries), seemed to catch sight of their group and hurried over, his immense belly leading the way.

"Oho!" he said jovially, apparently not noticing Sirius' cringe as he stared at Slughorn's enormous, jiggling middle. "How are we are all this fine morning?"

"Quite well, Professor," offered Frank dutifully, as the others nodded in agreement.

"I see you've all received my invites!" said Slughorn, glancing around the table. "You'll all be joining our little shindig, won't you? Lily," he said, looking at her and beaming happily, "you'll come, of course?"

"Definitely, Professor Slughorn," agreed Lily, smiling sweetly. His great, walrus-esque moustache wobbled with excitement and she quickly hid a grimace. "In fact, we all are!"

"Excellent, excellent," said Slughorn, rubbing his hands together. "I'll see you all Friday evening then, around seven o'clock. Splendid!" And he tottered off again.

"'We all are?'" repeated Sirius, looking at her disbelievingly. "Why didn't you just feed us to the werewolves?"

"Like I said," Lily told them, with an evil glint in her eye, "I'm taking you down with me."

* * *

"This is even more unbearable than the last one," whimpered Sirius, skulking in a dark corner. "Can we please go?"

"No," said Lily forcefully, pushing him forward. "We already said we'd make an appearance. So go and... appear."

He continued to look disgruntled, annoying her to the point where she shoved a glass of butterbeer into his hand and pushed him in the direction of the nearest girl with a short skirt. Lily turned back to the James, Frank, Remus and Ally, a determined look on her face.

"Ready to go work for next semester's grades?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with derision. They each nodded grimly, Remus heading off to talk to Professor Harrow, their Defence teacher, James walking in McGonagall's direction, and Ally and Frank (banding together for solidarity) made their way over to chat with Professor Stalk, the Herbology teacher, near a table of refreshments and snacks. Lily was left standing alone, an immediate and worrying danger in itself: any second now, Slughorn would undoubtedly spot her and trap her in boring, name-dropping conversation for the rest of the evening; no, she was much better off to start with Professor Flitwick, who was already talking with Slughorn's vampire friend, Sanguini... she started walking briskly toward the duo, but suddenly, a large object was blocking her path –

"Oho! Lily!" said Slughorn's delighted voice, immediately slinging a fat arm over her shoulders. She immediately forced a smile as he pulled her over to a group which included Professors Vector and Kettleburn (whose crutches – an ever-present part of his daily 'attire' since an unfortunate encounter with a Manticore some years earlier – were tonight decorated with Bowtruckles, their black eyes glittering). "How are you, m'dear?"

"Very well, thank you, Professor," she said, all sugar-and-spice. For all her disdain for his sycophantic propensities, she could not deny that she wasn't above using his blatant favouritism in her favour – and not just in his class. "How are you all? Thanks so much for inviting me, I always have such a lovely time at your parties!"

"Glad to hear it, Lily," said Professor Slughorn. "Professor Kettleburn, did you know Lily here earned a perfect score on her Potions Owl? You should have heard old Tofty going on about her!"

Lily blushed easily, modest and unassuming. "Professor, Slughorn, really!" she said, giggled pleasingly. "It was just a stroke of luck, honestly."

"Luck!" crowed the Potions teacher, his stomach wobbling profusely. "This, from the most accomplished potion maker in seventh year!" His words travelled easily across the room and, from behind Professor Slughorn, Lily saw Severus Snape – a Slytherin boy who often competed with her for the best Potions grade – throw their group a jealous, almost wounded glance. Lily's smile grew wider.

"That really is quite impressive, Lily," concurred Professor Kettleburn. "Your parents must be very proud."

"Well, my father-" began Lily, but Slughorn was already interjecting their conversation.

"Oh yes, your father, Lily," said Slughorn excitedly. "Surely, Kelvin, you've heard of Christophé Evans?"

"The entrepreneur?" said Vector suddenly, looking surprised. "The muggle who supplied the entire Puddlemere United side and their reserve squad with RocketRacers at the start of the Quidditch season? That's your father, Lily?"

"The one and only," confirmed Lily, her eyes shining. "He's always had a soft spot for sports, and when I took him to their semi-final match last year... well, let's just say it something akin to love at first sight."

The males surrounding her laughed, Slughorn almost spilling his butterbeer everywhere. "I've heard much talk of your father since that surprising donation, I have to say," said Vector, almost admiringly. "Is it true that he was born in France?"

"Oh, yes. His mother was French, actually, distantly descended from Marie Antoinette," explained Lily. "My father's real name is actually Christophé Robillard-Evans – his mother's name, of course, was Robillard, and my grandfather's – an Englishman – was Evans, but he dropped the first part when he moved to Britain, as he thought an English-sounding name would make for better business."

"Well, it sounds like he was quite right," said Kettleburn, an impressed expression on his face. "And your mother, does she enjoy Quidditch too? Merlin knows my wife hates it; thinks it's too violent." He shared an amused eye roll with Slughorn.

"Oh... well, actually, my mother died when I was four," said Lily, the smile fading a little from her face. "So I don't really remember her. And she never knew I was a witch."

"Oh, my dear, I am sorry to hear that," said Vector, a little shocked, Kettleburn nodding solemnly at her side. Lily always felt uncomfortable when speaking about her mother, if only for the fact that it made others uncomfortable: she hated that she could practically feel them trying to think of something polite or tactful to say.

Thankfully, the attention was at that moment, lifted from her as Slughorn as seized another student who had unfortunately been passing by. "Oho, m'boy!" cried Slughorn suddenly, clamping an arm around the unfortunate student and dragging him into their group. The student in questioned was looking rather discontented and rather like James Potter.

"Oh, hello, Professors," said James politely, obviously recognising himself to be trapped. Lily smirked at him, relieved that their attention had been lifted from her momentarily.

"Look at this! The Head Boy and Head Girl of Hogwarts!" boomed Slughorn delightedly, clapping his hands together. "And two of the more competent Heads, I must say!"

Lily faked a modest look again. "Oh, Professor Slughorn," she said sweetly, "honestly, you're far too kind! James and I just doing the best job we can. In these dark times..." Lily paused for effect. "Well, we just want to make sure the students of Hogwarts are united and assured."

Beside her, James nodded, obviously playing along (though with as little effort as possible). The teachers all seemed to gaze at _him_ adoringly, for some reason.

"It's a damn shame we can't get you here more often, James," said Slughorn, frowning. "The students all seem to hold you in very high regard. And so do the teachers, if I do say so myself!"

"Yeah, sorry, Professor," said James, smiling politely, "I couldn't quite make it to the last one. Sirius scheduled a Quidditch practise, and you don't say no about anything concerning Quidditch to Sirius." The teachers laughed, practically fawning over him. Lily was suddenly annoyed. _All because his father is the stupid Minister for Magic_, she thought irritably, barely able to keep from rolling her eyes.

"That's sounds like my father," said Lily, repositioning herself within the conversation. "He's insisting we attend every match in London over the coming summer!" The Professors laughed again, almost sycophantically, and Lily's smile grew wider in victory. Though she smiled as sweetly at James as she could manage, she couldn't help catching a glint in his eye...

"Actually, Professors," he said, his eyes now flicking from Lily's face to the teachers, "my father was saying only the other day how important it is for the wizarding population to have a nation interest in something frivolous like Quidditch, especially – as Lily said-" his eyes seemed to twitch with amusement "-in these dark times. Keeps the morale up, you know."

Lily wasn't an idiot; she could recognise a challenge when she saw one. Straightening her shoulders and using her most saccharine voice, she began, "I completely agree; I mean, when I heard about that attack on-"

But James was already speaking over the top of her, and the pendulum of interest had shifted, just as he had intended. "And with all the debate over the Aurors' use of Unforgivables in the media," he went on, his expression theatrically grim, "it's no wonder people are starting to panic. Such extreme measures being implemented so early into this conflict... well, I'm sure you understand, Professor Slughorn. My father tells me you were instrumental in the formulation of a potion which freed prisoners of Nurmengard from the constraints Grindelwald placed on their magical abilities; it sounds fascinating. How did you accomplish such a feat?"

As Slughorn chuffed delightedly and launched into a long spiel detailing his own brilliance, Lily looked at James disgustedly: _laying it on a bit thick, wasn't he? _And yet the expression of rapt attention never faded from his face. For the rest of the evening, in fact, Lily hung back as the Professors – now joined by Flitwick and a slightly-tipsy Madam Pomfrey – laughed at James' jokes, commented on his theories about the coming war (she shuddered involuntarily at the thought) and generally lavished praise on him.

"You know, James, m'boy, you'd make a rather excellent politican," commented Slughorn, stroking his moustache. "I really ought to put you in touch with my contacts at the Ministry... although I don't doubt you've already got your own!" His bellowing laughed extended across the room, the party now almost over.

"Yes, well, my father _is_ thinking along the same lines as yourself, Professor Slughorn," said James with a sly grin, "but I'm not sure magical politics is for me..."

"Nonsense, James! You'll do the Potter legacy proud, I've no doubt!" boomed their whale of a teacher. "Great Scott, look at the time! I think it might be the point for us all to begin toddling off to bed..."

"I think you're right, Professor," agreed James, and disappointed faces flittered around him. "Sorry, sorry, I know, but we've Quidditch practise tomorrow... got to be up early..." He and Lily bade goodnight to the group of teachers who were now discussing a round of nightcaps. They walked silently alongside each other, their footsteps echoing loudly in the deserted corridors. If there was one thing to be thankful for being Head Girl for, thought Lily, it was the ability to break curfew without question: Slughorn was right, it was almost one in the morning – and were they not student leaders, Filch would have skinned them alive. Their silent journey, however, had given her time to think...

Lily's mind was ticking with anger and an odd jealousy as they gave Sir Cadogan the password ("Stay and fight, you dog!" he shouted to James, before proceeding to fall off his fat pony). All those times he had called her manipulative and a user, and look at his behaviour! There was just no way he'd actually been enjoying himself; the look on his face when he'd been forced into their discussion was proof of that. So what, exactly, was he playing at? She had to know.

"Have a nice evening, did you?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled, as she took the seat opposite him in front of the fire.

"Yeah," he said casually, "yeah, not bad. Not bad at all." There was that glint in his eye again.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Oh, to hell with it_, she thought furiously; she'd never been good at controlling her emotions anyway. "No bloody wonder," she spat viciously; he looked up quickly at her as he noted the change in her tone. "You spent the entire night grovelling to Slughorn! I can't believe _you_ call _me_ a suck-up – you're such a hypocrite!"

His voice was slow and strong as he looked her in the eye, daring her to disagree: "Only because I know how angry it makes you when you're not the centre of everyone's universe all the time."

She gaped at him. "I can't believe you spent the whole-"

But a malicious snarl had appeared on his face; Lily had never seen such an expression twist his strong features. "_Honestly, Professor!"_ he interrupted Lily, imitating her voice with a revolting, grovelling expression plastered onto his face. "Honest! You've never been honest a day in your life."

"How would you even _know_?" Lily burst out angrily, suddenly on her feet. "You always act as though you know every goddamn thing I ever did or said or thought, but we've barely even _spoken_ until this year!"

"Because I-" began James heatedly, but suddenly faltered. He stood too but looked away, his expression still mutinous.

"What?" asked Lily. "_What_?"

"It's not like you're exactly efficient at hiding those parts of yourself, the ones you don't want shown," declared James hastily. "You think that you can just show the whole school this _facade_ of yourself, all charming and kind and _perfect_-"

"How do you know that's not who I really am?" shouted Lily, stepping towards him in fury, hoping he wouldn't notice the lack of confidence in her voice: was she _really_ that person – compassionate, understanding, caring – or could James possibly be right?

His laugh cracked through the room like a whip, and hurt almost as much. "Don't make me laugh! You and I both know, Lily," he said, eyes glittering with a strange combination of amusement and spite, as he stepped forward to meet her, "you're nothing like that... you're not the girl that Travis wanted."

There. He had said it; the one thing he could say that would hurt the very most. Incensed tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked as though he had slapped her, her mouth gaping slightly. "Shut _up_!" she cried, almost losing her head with rage. They were an inch apart, fury exploding out of both of their eyes. "As if _you'd_ know what he wants – as if you'd know _who I am_! You're the most arrogant, selfish, callous person I've ever had the misfortune to meet, and I curse the day you were-"

But suddenly he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, waves of fury and desire and loathing and longing crashing over them – he pulled away momentarily, but she was kissing him again before he could even draw breath, slamming more angry kisses onto his arrogant, selfish, callous face – her legs were around his waist, her back against the wall, his hands clutching her to him – she hated him, she wanted him; the world was spinning, but all she could hear, feel, see, smell, taste, was James Potter, the boy she couldn't stand, the man who drove her wild with want – what was she doing? She should be slapping him instead – but the desire was too great, and without thinking, without reason or sense...

Lily gave in.

* * *

She awoke early the next morning, the sun almost blinding her as it poked through the narrow gap between James' curtains. At least they'd remembered to close them this time. She rolled over with a shiver, intending to tuck her naked body into James' warm form, but she couldn't reach him. Eyes half-closed, she extended a hand across the huge bed, feeling for him, but there wasn't even an indent indicating he had lain there recently. Opening her eyes, she sat up and looked around his bedroom. There was a Gryffindor scarf, a desk topped by books and scattered bits of paper, and a closet like her own, but James Potter was nowhere to be found.

Then she remembered his early-morning exercise ritual. She flopped back on to the bed. Why was she so relieved, anyway? She should be furious with him still. (She decided to ignore the part about helping him get lucky, as it wasn't exactly satisfactory payback.) Yawning, she stumbled out of the bed, through the door opposite it and into the bathroom. At least, she thought, stepping under the hot shower spray, there would be no awkward conversation this time.

* * *

"Have you seen James at all today?" asked Lily, as they sat at the Gryffindor table for dinner that evening.

"No," said Ally slowly, looking at her oddly. "I'm not the one who lives with him, remember?"

"Right," said Lily, forcing a laugh. "I guess he's just been at Quidditch practise all day."

"He can't have, Frank and the other Ravenclaws have been using it this afternoon. Gryffindor practise finished at lunchtime." She stopped. "You mean, you haven't seen him since then?"

"I guess not," said Lily, trying to appear unconcerned. "We probably just keep missing each other. I mean, none of the other guys are here..."

"And Frank's only just finished practise," finished Ally. She smiled indifferently. "They've probably just nicked off to Hogsmeade; you know how those three are."

"You're probably right," smiled Lily, going back to her beef casserole. "I just hope they bought me some Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans! My stash is getting seriously low."

* * *

But James didn't appear in their common room that night, and though she lay in bed awake til much later than she normally would have (she told herself she only wanted to end their angry conversation from the night before, and this time, not wind up in his bed), she didn't hear him come through the portrait-hole. Her rest that night was fitful and not particularly relaxing, and she woke late. A loud, rather insistent knock on their front door woke her quite suddenly the next morning, jolting her from her sleep. Lily groaned and looked at the clock: 10.30 am. It must be James, she realised as she went to open it, finally – he'd probably been out all night drinking, the idiot, and forgotten the password – oh, she was going to give him a piece of her mind-

She wrenched open the portrait hole door; Ally stood before her.

"Ally?" she said, shocked. "I know I missed breakfast, but I thought you always slept late on-"

But Ally was silent, holding the paper in front of her. Lily looked inquiringly at her friend, who shook her head, and dread snatched at her stomach before she could bring herself to look at the headline, which read, in bold letters:

_MINISTER'S WIFE DIES OF MYSTERIOUS VIRUS, AGED 59._

* * *

James didn't return to the Head dormitory that night, or that week, for that matter. Sirius, too, was notably missing from Gryffindor tower. Only Remus and Frank remained behind, filling the girls in on the death of Mrs Potter.

Apparently, she had been struck by the illness – a wizarding virus known as Milanthropia's Malady – quite suddenly, and quite surprisingly, for Mrs Potter had previously been the model of perfect health. Despite having James late in life, the Potters had always been energetic and sprightly, and, according to Remus, it had been a huge shock for James to be summoned from school to be at his mother's bedside as she died.

"Sirius stayed with the Potters over the summer," he told Lily over an uncommonly quiet Potions lesson. "He was like a second son to them. He left straight after James arrived at Ministry Manor, right after they heard that she'd – well..." he hesitated, his voice heavy, and sighed. "I guess Mrs Potter just wanted to see James once last time before she stopped... holding on."

Lily dropped her eyes to the cauldron. Remus had also been fond of and had stayed with the Potters; he was to attend the funeral on Tuesday the next week. "Is he..." her voice caught, and she shook herself. "Is he – James, I mean – alright?"

Remus eyed her. "What do you think?" he said quietly, and while there was no malice in his voice, his words still stung. "I can't imagine," he said. "I can't imagine what it would be like to lose your mum..."

But Lily didn't have to imagine. Numerous people, including Professor Slughorn and a rather-distraught Ally, had mentioned that it would be good for James to have Lily to talk to when he eventually returned to the castle; she had, after all, lost her own mother, too. But Lily could barely remember Margaret 'Maggie' Evans, while James would, undoubtedly, be able to recall instances of his mother's voice, her smile, her words of advice, from only a few weeks ago... how on earth was she supposed to able to comfort someone who had experienced a loss like that?

And here she was, thinking of herself, while James went through the most difficult pain of his life... Was he right, she thought for the hundredth time, was she really that self-centred and uncompassionate girl he had made her to be the last time they'd spoken? And if she was, how on earth would she ever change in order to help James when he needed it the most?

* * *

Tuesday passed; James' mother's funeral did too. The following morning's paper showed a front-page photo of James and his father beside the casket, both barely moving. Lily had almost burst into tears, right there at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, when she'd seen that photograph... the look on his face had made her heart clench painfully. And yet her eyes seemed to be ready to flood at any moment lately, she'd noticed; what on earth was wrong with her?

Lily threw herself into homework, in a conscious and ineffectual attempt to distract herself. She put off the fortnightly Prefect meeting, awaiting James' return. By Friday – two weeks after Slughorn's party – James still had not returned. Lily's incapacity to concentrate was more evident now than ever; she seemed to spend the entire weekend staring out of the balcony's doors distractedly, as she sat in his favourite armchair near the fire... Sunday rolled around and James Potter remained missing in action; Sirius, however, made a subdued return to Gryffindor tower late on Saturday night and proceeded to spend most of his time in the library. Rumours swirled about James' no-show, and many seemed to hypothesise that he would not be returning to Hogwarts' again. By Monday morning, a very tired and anxious Lily Evans began to believe them, and resignedly set the Prefect meeting for that evening, with Frank and Remus deigning to help her fill James' role in the proceedings.

The fire warmed the room comfortably as students lounged on chairs and couches. The meeting went very quickly, unhindered by Lily and James' usual bickering, and Lily was already beginning to wrap things up at a quarter to eight, only fifteen minutes after they had started.

"So, what date did we decide on for the next Hogsmeade visit?" she asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

"Well, we were tossing up between December 12th and the 19th," offered Peter, a quiet, watery-eyed sixth year Slytherin, "because some people thought the 19th was too close to Christmas break but some people wanted to do their Christmas shopping-" He broke off suddenly.

"What?" asked Lily, but then she heard it too – the portrait-hole door was opening, and in stepped James Potter.

The room went very silent and still as almost thirty faces swivelled towards the unshaven, dishevelled James; Lily's heart seemed to stop beating at the sight of him. James, however, looked at the group once, dropped his shoulder bag near the bookshelf, and walked into the kitchen.

"Um," said Lily, distracted, "what – what were we-?"

"Hogsmeade visit?" supplied Remus quickly, obviously wanting to direct the spotlight away from James.

"Oh, right," said Lily, dragging her own gaze from James, who was reached into the fridge. "So... so, what did we dec- oh, no, I remember..." she paused, trying to focus herself. "How about we just make it December 12th, then?"

No one argued, but merely nodded and murmured in agreement; the arrival of James seemed to have lessened their interest in anything remotely-school related. Lily looked at Remus and Frank a little bemusedly, who nodded, and she said quietly, "well then... Prefects dismissed, I guess."

They left quickly, obviously eager to tell their friends about James' reappearance at Hogwarts. Frank and Remus walked over to where James stood, looking disinterestedly through the contents of the cupboard; they seemed to pat his shoulder as comfortingly as they knew how and muttered a few words of consolement to James, who merely nodded. They then left, leaving James and Lily quite alone.

"Um," said Lily again, almost wordless in shock and overwhelming empathy, "James, I – I'm so-"

But he'd already walked away, into his bedroom and closed the door, ignoring her entirely.

"-Sorry," she finished lamely.

* * *

They didn't speak for two weeks. The first of December passed, and though Christmas decorations, spirit and cheer began to filter throughout the Hogwarts walls, James remained as silent and solemn as the night he had arrived. She soon realised it wasn't personal, as James spoke to no one other than Sirius, and even then only in muttered voices and short sentences. He was out of touch with the world around him and barely attentive in classes; but then, could she blame him? Yes, Lily often felt saddened by the thought of her own mother's passing, but she had never gotten the chance to know her mother as James had, never been as close to he as he undoubtedly seemed to have been...

One exceptionally cold night during that first week of December, Lily fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning in her bed...

There stood before her a giant doorway, blocking her path... she tried _'Alohomora'_, but to no avail... Lily tugged frustratedly at the door, and suddenly it seemed to grow a face before her eyes, horrible and inhuman... _"You'll never open it,"_ it said, its loud voice booming with spiteful laughter at her pitiful attempts to unlock it, "_You'll never understand..." _... and suddenly she was choking, the horrible, throttling noise ringing in her ears...

But suddenly she was awake, and it wasn't her making the choking noise at all: from beyond the door that led to the common room, she could hear an odd, muffled noise; almost like someone choking, but not quite... Lily, now out of bed, pushed open the door and entered the common room.

The dark shape of James Potter was plainly visible in the glow of the fire. He sat on the hard, wooden coffee table, his head in his hands; he was clearly sobbing. Lily felt her heart burst with sadness. She went to him unrestrainedly, her arms around him in seconds. His entire body heaved as it was wracked with sobs. For the first time in a fortnight, James spoke to her.

"It's – not – fair," he managed, his tears soaking her shoulder instantly. "It's... not... _fair-"_

She held him tightly, his cries diminishing slightly; she stood, pulling him up with her hand, and wordlessly led him to her bedroom. The moonlight streaming through her open windows illuminated the tears that had flowed from his bloodshot eyes. They climbed into bed together, his head on her chest, and she held him still, stroking his hair intermittently. As James fell into a fitful sleep, Lily watched the first snowflakes fall without sound onto the motionless Hogwarts castle.


	4. It's Too Soon to See If I'm Happy in You

**(A/N: **I've taken certain liberties with the dates, places and objects mentioned in this chapter, for dramatic effect. Forgive me.

This chapter is super-long, so enjoy it!)

**It's Too Soon to See if I'm Happy in Your Hands**

A strange new intimacy had evolved between them, almost more awkward than the atmosphere that had engulfed them in the week after James had first spent the night in Lily's bed, but far more personal and trusting at the same time. While James remained quiet and emotionally elusive, even to his closest friends, he sometimes opened up to her with stories about his childhood and his mother. Every time she brought up the subject of his current emotional state, however, he would quickly change the subject or make an excuse to leave; it was still too early for him to be candid about his feelings. Regardless, she now spent most nights in his bedroom, both of them lost in their desire for each other or simply in need of the comfort the other's warm body provided. Time and time again, she asked herself what she was doing, why she almost couldn't bear to think of falling asleep without his arms around her, why he drove her so entirely insane. Outside of their dormitory, they skirted around each other, barely speaking, sharing only glances when no one else was looking. But still, night after night, she fell asleep wrapped in his arms, her thoughts a strange cacophony of him, her growing fears, the tumultuous world around her and her terror that her family would be next...

Their school work, however, was both willing and very able to distract them: their classes were exhaustive, and followed each night by a stack of homework even greater than the last. Whilst every class had become more demanding, Lily noticed that their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes were now particularly challenging, with Professor Harrow teaching them a new spell, jinx or technique almost every lesson. The students, too, were paying more attention in this class than ever before, and it was this more than anything else that frightened Lily: she could no longer deny the severity of the situation facing the wizarding world.

Their rapid training was spurred on by the frequent news of attacks, the whispers of targeted families and the now even more persistent rumours of an underground pro-Voldemort club, here at Hogwarts. Lily and James had been forced to speak on the subject after a Ravenclaw fifth-year, Tim Jenkins, brought up the rumours at their last Prefect meeting.

"What about this junior Death Eaters club, eh?" he'd asked aggressively, after Hestia Jones had brought up the subject of Voldemort (Lily had winced as a globule of spit had flown from Hestia's mouth onto the very unfortunate Hufflepuff sixth-year girl sitting in front of her).

"Yeah," chimed in Arian Fawcett, Tim's fellow Ravenclaw. "Everyone's saying there's a bunch of Slytherins meeting in the dungeons, talking about joining Voldemort..." She trailed off and glared at the Slytherins, who were camped together on the couches closest Sir Cadogan's portrait hole. The Slytherins seemed to reciprocate her open hostility in unison, one of them – Crabbe, Lily thought his name was, and a more dim-witted Prefect she had never seen – actually cracking his gigantic knuckles menacingly.

"There's no such thing," squeaked Peter, the Slytherin who had weighed in on the Hogsmeade debate at the meeting before last. His expression had seemed a little panicky; for a Slytherin, he wasn't all that comfortable sitting with his fellows. "Don't you think Dumbledore would know if there was? That he wouldn't put a stop to it?"

Lily thought she saw that heavy-lidded fifth-year Slytherin girl – she always forgot her name – smirk and she stared at her, but the girl's face quickly became expressionless once more as she looked back, unblinkingly, at Lily. She dragged her eyes away from the girl and addressed the group again.

"Even if there is," said Lily heavily, "it is not up to you to stop these people single-handedly. Should you hear anything regarding this group, you should speak to Professor Dumbledore or your Head of House immediately. Do _not _think about taking any of these so-called followers on. You've all seen what Voldemort and his Death Eaters are capable of. Do not take the risk with anyone rumoured to be connected to him."

Silence had followed her words; many Prefects became lost in their own thoughts and, seeing this, both Lily and James realised there was no point in continuing the meeting. James dismissed the other Prefects quietly, all of whom made a hasty exit for the door. The heavy-lidded girl smirked at Lily as she left, Lily frowning at her.

"Who _was_ that gi-?" she began, but James had his back to her, staring at the fire, and was evidently not listening to her.

"That was good advice, you know," he said, his voice soft. She walked over to his side at the fire, feeling its warm glow hit her instantly and comfortingly. "About the pro-Voldemort group. It must be challenging thinking about someone else for a while." He raised his head to meet her eyes, a brief grin flitting across his face.

Though she couldn't help bristling a little, she almost used to his needling now. "Hey, I can be nice," she said defensively. He raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes."

He smiled slightly again, before his expression became solemn once more. "But if it's true..." He frowned, looking at the fire again. "If this group exists... this is exactly the kind of internal faction that could damage the school, especially during times like these..." He sighed heavily. Lily, rather hesitantly, had raised a hand and patted his back.

"It'll be okay, you know," she said, her voice quietly assured, though her insides squirmed uncomfortably even as she said it; _I won't consider it now, I'll think about it tomorrow_. "As long as we've got Dumbledore... well, I'm not too worried."

"But what about next year, when we're out of school – when we don't have Dumbledore or the other teachers or this castle to protect us anymore? What then?" He looked up at her now, his eyes troubled. Lily was almost scared to note the unmistakable flicker of fear in his eyes; she couldn't believe, after all her worries and trepidation and nightmares about the situation, she was now the one comforting him. She could think of nothing even remotely comforting to say, other than –

"It'll be okay," she said again, her eyes locked on his. "I know it."

Except she didn't know it. Nothing terrified her more than the regular nightmares that interrupted her sleep, even with James' arm curled around her; nothing, other than the headlines that screamed at her every morning from the _Prophet_. She could not hide the look of sick apprehension from her face as she unfurled the paper with trembling fingers, wondering if this morning – this day – would it be _her_ family – her father – who was attacked... and every morning, so far, the absolute relief that threatened to overwhelm her when her father's face did not appear on the front page... but then the terror would build again, every night before she went to sleep, before the nightmares invaded her mind once more...

She was not, however, alone. Many faces in the Great Hall shared the pinched look that often marred her beautiful face, or the dread that overtook her glittering eyes as she read that morning's headlines... _Muggle Village Attacked, Hundreds Believed Dead... Dark Mark Appears Over Knockturn Alley_... or, worst of all, on that morning that Lily could not forget, when a scream had pierced the tense silence, before Arian Fawcett had ran from the Great Hall, sobbing... the headline of that day was burned into her mind... _Minister's Chief of Staff Harold Fawcett Killed in Brutal Attack..._

James hadn't gone to class that day, but had stayed locked in his bedroom. Lily and James had come to an unspoken understanding that their current... arrangement... would stay between them only, and thus she kept her night time routine from Ally still, and he seemed to have done the same with their male friends. As such, when the others questioned her about James' absence that day, she explained it away with practised ease, not giving any indication as to their strange new intimacy. Sirius had been similarly subdued following the death of Mrs Potter, and simply nodded when she told them about the death of Mr Fawcett, a close friend and trusted colleague of James' father.

"My dad knew him, too," said Frank, whose eyes were a little red. "He was a good guy."

Ally rubbed his back, leaning against her boyfriend and looking troubled. "Poor Arian," she said quietly. "I heard that her older brother came and picked her up right after breakfast."

"Imagine, but," said Remus, looking not at them but at the table, his eyes wide with shock. "Imagine finding out like that... by reading the _paper..._"

They each remained quiet for a few moments. They were gathered around the fireplace in Lily and James' common room, having felt unable to face the tension of the Great Hall again for lunch; Lily had pulled a few pre-packed dinners from the cupboard – they were called Magick-A-Meal, and able to be heated with just the touch of a wand – but no one was really eating. She stopped picking half-heartedly at her own meal and sat back, sighing. A bell rang outside the common room.

"Come on," she said despondently, standing, and gesturing to Remus and Sirius, "Potions..."

Lily grabbed her textbooks from the bookshelves, shouldered her bag, and set off down the corridor with the other two. She was not looking forward to being trapped in the dungeons with Slughorn for the next two hours, especially not in her current mood. Remus and Sirius seemed to agree, shuffling their feet and seemingly being willing to only walk at a very slow pace. The door to their classroom seemed to loom before her suddenly, and Lily stopped, abruptly. She couldn't face this – not the other students, not the dizzying fumes from her cauldron, not the sycophantic guffaws of their teacher – not today. Remus and Sirius looked at her.

"I – I've forgotten my other textbook," she lied hastily, barely meeting their eyes. "I'll be right back." She turned without waiting for an answer and sped off down the corridor. Thankfully, she didn't meet another student, teacher, ghost or – God forbid – Mrs Norris on her way back to her dormitory. She had no idea what the hell she was doing – or did she? – but her feet beat a hasty retreat through the halls, echoing throughout their otherwise-noiseless walls, finally reaching the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

"I say, dear lady, shouldn't you be attending a class?" said Cadogan, sounding shocked and far more lucid than she'd ever seen him before.

Ignoring him, she spluttered, "Miserly wench," and, as the portrait swung open, stumbled into the common room. She dumped her bags and books unceremoniously onto the ground, heading straight for James' room; she knocked once and entered without waiting.

"Lily!" said James, looking a little shocked as he sat up; he seemed to have been reading his favourite book again. She walked straight over to him, her hands going around his neck and her lips to his; his arms went around her waist without question, supporting her, kissing her back in an instant. Her kiss was insistent, demanding, and he reciprocated her challenge without demur. James pulled her back onto the bed with him, leaning above her and looking her straight in the eye; he seemed to pause.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking concerned. His eyes were tired, but his stare was unrelenting.

_Everything_, she thought to herself. "Nothing," she answered. Ignoring the wrench in her stomach, she pulled his head down to meet hers again, losing herself, as she always did, in his kiss, his touch, his warmth – in him.

* * *

Christmas seemed to have approached quickly that year: suddenly, it was mid-December; there were the twelves trees in the Great Hall and mistletoe in the corridors. The atmosphere, however, was undeniably subdued, after news of an attack on Diagon Alley – even bigger than anything before – had reached the castle. When Professor McGonagall came around to enquire which students would be staying at the school over the holidays, Lily (who was visiting Ally in Gryffindor Tower that night) was surprised to find that many more students than previous years were staying at Hogwarts.

"Why do you think that is?" she asked Ally, frowning, as two more third-years signed up to stay.

"People are scared," said Ally, shrugging. "Tons of parents have sent owls to their kids saying they want them to stay at Hogwarts instead of coming home. They reckon that wherever Dumbledore is, is safest."

Lily contemplated this, staring without seeing at a quiet group of first-years opposite them. She herself was heading home to the mansion she and her father had moved to over the summer, after Petunia had left. Lily loved Christmas: even before she had begun attending Hogwarts for nine months of the year, it had been her favourite holiday, as it was typically the time of year she saw her father most. She was particularly excited to be going home during these turbulent times, removing herself from the constant tension of the castle and the persistent bad news that filled the newspapers. She couldn't wait to see her father, for the first time since August, though she wasn't so thrilled about exchanging presents with Vernon and Petunia.

"What are you doing, then?" she asked Ally, resuming the conversation. "Are you staying too?"

"Actually," said Ally, shifting a little, "I'm going to Frank's. I'm going to meet his family."

Lily was astounded. "Wow, Ally!" she said, blinking. "You sure kept that one quiet." She thought of her own secret and flinched unconsciously, hurrying on. "How do you feel about it?"

Ally hesitated. "Well..." she said slowly, biting her lip. "It's a lot, you know? But I'm excited," she rushed on. "I mean, I guess it says a lot about where our relationship is now."

"That it does," concurred Lily, smiling. "You guys must be getting pretty serious."

"Yeah," said Ally, now smiling too. "Then we're going back to mine for New Year's. I just hope Dad doesn't take it as his fatherly duty to scare the life out of Frank. You should have seen what he said to Adelaide's last boyfriend..." she shuddered, adopting Lord Fenton's deep, gruff voice. "'If anything happens to my daughter, I've got a .45 and a shovel. I doubt anyone would miss you'." Lily laughed.

"What about the boys?" she went on, as nonchalantly as she could. "Do you know what Sirius or Remus or James are doing?"

"Remus and Sirius are staying, I think," said Ally. "Remus' parents wanted him to, and Sirius wanted to give James and his dad a little space over the holidays, after – you know – everything that's happened..." Her voice trailed off as she stared into the fire again.

"Yeah," said Lily absentmindedly, also lost in thought. "I can't wait to go home," she said quietly.

"I bet," said Ally, now grinning evilly at her. "Say hi to Vernon and Petunia for me."

* * *

It was the last Sunday before the holidays. Lily's head rested on James' chest as they sat in bed together, him reading the paper, she simply staring out the open window. Snow fluttered softly to the ground; it was freezing outside. She snuggled closer into James, glad for the warmth of their dormitory.

"You know," she said lazily, stretching, "I feel like doing absolutely nothing today."

He looked at her amusedly, the corners of his mouth twitching, over the paper (Lily did her best to ignore the screaming headline that proclaimed the disappearance of an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries itself). "Well," he said, "seeing as we have no classes today, and everyone's going home tomorrow, that should be alright."

"And there's no Quidditch practise," she said, with a sly grin. "Which means I've got you right... where... I... want you." She ran a hand down his chest, her eyes on his lips; James took one look at her and laid the paper aside.

"Again," he said huskily, leaning toward her, "I don't think that'll be a problem..."

She grinned as his lips met hers, his arms pulling her closer still. Thanks to last night's activities, there no clothes to be removed; James' kisses reached her neck – Lily sighed with pleasure –

And then a knock sounded from the other side of the portrait hole.

James sighed too, this time in the exact opposite way. Lily grinned fleetingly at him and kissed him again, whispering against his lips, "don't move. I'll be right back." She slid out of his grasp, and James didn't trouble to lower his gaze as she pulled her robe over her naked form. He smirked at her as she rolled her eyes at him, before firing a sultry gaze his way as she pulled open the door. He groaned; she grinned. Lily turned and walked through the door –

There stood a very shocked-looking Ally.

"Lily?" she said in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

Lily was momentarily confused. "What do you mean?" Then she looked behind her, to where she had just come from and to where Ally was now pointing, wordlessly: the door she had passed through stood closer, facing them, and bore very clearly the inscription 'James'.

Ally's expression seemed to change from astounded to angry, very quickly. "What the hell are you doing?" she repeated, striding over to Lily. "Are you..." Her voice sounded odd, as though she couldn't believe she was even asking. "Are you sleeping with _James_?"

"Of course not!" cried Lily, in shock; the lie slipped out easily, but how could she had been so careless? "I just..." She searched around for an excuse – any excuse. "I just came through his room after the shower. Our bathroom is adjoining, you know, and it's just quicker to walk through his room to get to the common room... sometimes..." She was babbling, she knew, but she plastered an innocent looking to her face, meeting Ally's disbelieving eyes as best she could. "James isn't even here!" she said desperately. Ally surveyed her shrewdly still.

"Prove it." Ally's voice was quiet and untrusting. There was disgust clearly written in her eyes; Lily almost wilted under best friend's gaze.

"P-Prove it?" Lily hoped she wouldn't notice her voice falter. Ally nodded, pointing to James' door again. "Um... okay..." She pulled her robe tighter around herself and walked slowly over to James' door. "I'm going to open the door, then," she told Ally – and herself – but her fingers froze on the handle. "I mean, I just want you to be prepared... teenage boy's bedroom, and all that... it's probably gross..."

But Ally only stared more suspiciously at her and Lily, accepting the inevitable – they were going to be discovered, Ally was going to hate her, Dumbledore would probably make them move back to Gryffindor Tower – took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

It was a miracle: the room was empty. Ally strode past her and pushed open the bathroom door; it too was James-free.

Lily's synapses slowly began firing again. "See?" she said, unable to hide a note of triumph from her voice. "Told you."

"I don't know what you were so worried about, then," said Ally, looking around the room; Lily almost froze again. "His room is actually pretty tidy."

It was indeed: even the bed had been made, albeit sloppily. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea how this had happened. Where the hell was James? Where had he gone?

Ally was reluctantly smiling at her. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you," said Ally, pulling a forgive-me-please face. "I just..." Her friend hesitated, still looking around James' recently abandoned room. "It's not that I'd care that you were with James, of course. But if you were, and you hadn't told me... I mean, it would be such a huge part of anyone's life, you know? Although, I'm sure you would. Tell me, I mean. Of course you would," smiled Ally, "we're best friends, after all."

Her words felt like bullets. Lily forced a smile, guilt driving into her. "Of course," she repeated, feeling more despicable than she could ever remember; she scoffed to cover her shame. "But James Potter? Please. As if!" What was that noise behind her? – it sounded like someone forcing a tiny cough – but when she whirled around, there was no one there. She shook herself.

"Are you okay?" asked Ally, looking at her concernedly.

"I'm fine," Lily told her, with as much assurance as she could muster. "I'm just still sort of waking up. Late night." _Thank God_, thought Lily, as Ally simply smiled, _she didn't ask me why that was._

Ally hugged her, telling her to go back to bed with a giggle. "I was going to see if you wanted to hang out," she told Lily, "but it looks like you need the sleep more." She smiled and waved goodbye, leaving the room. It was only when Lily heard Sir Cadogan's portrait slam shut that she released the breath she had been unconsciously holding since Ally's arrival.

"That was close," said a low voice behind her. Lily shrieked and whirled around again.

James stood there, grinning. "Miss me?"

Lily gaped at him. "How did you – where-?" she spluttered, then whacked him on the chest. "Potter!"

"What?" he asked innocently, still smirking. Lily couldn't think of anything to say, her mouth hanging open unattractively. She settled with hitting him again.

"Cut it out, would you?" he said, a scowl replacing his grin. He wandered back to the bed, and she noticed (slightly dolefully) that he was now wearing a pair of Snitch-patterned boxers. "Way to be stealth, by the way. You were less convincing than a Death Eater disguised as Santa Clause."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly clued into your bag of super-spy tricks," she snapped. She was angry now: with James for making her worry, with Ally for forcing her to feel so ashamed, but most of all with herself. A book flew open on his desk, its pages fluttering wildly with a breeze that seemingly had no origin. How could she have let herself get in to this mess! She clicked unconsciously into self-denial, and her anger was instantly redirected towards James. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he simply surveyed his trembling desk unimpressively and turned back to her.

"And once again, you act like a child." His voice was cold, almost bored, and his eyes even more so. Lily's anger grew, the bedposts now shaking too. Her fury was almost overwhelming her; the emotions that were so tightly interwoven with her magical abilities were threatening to engulf her and she was almost powerless to stop it spilling over into a physical rage.

"It wasn't my idea to spend the night in here!" she yelled. _Half-true, at least._

"Oh, so now it's _my_ fault?" demanded James. "It's my fault that _you_ slept with me-"

"Only because I was drunk!" Lily interjected, her cheeks reddening and her teeth clenched.

"You were drunk, _every time_?" His voice was sarcastic and bitter. "Didn't take you for a closet alcoholic, Lily-"

"Oh, shut up, Potter! Whatever is going on between us, it's obviously been a huge, giant mistake." She was almost in tears, her face screwed up in fury. "I can't believe I ever let you – I ever _trusted_ you-"

"Don't kid yourself, _Evans_," spat James furiously, "you never trusted me! You only wanted to think that you didn't really care what I thought about you, that it wasn't even true to begin with, even though you know that I'm the only person here who knows who you truly are – and you only ended up proving me right!" The mirror above his desk cracked with a noise like gunshot. "You can't even control yourself long enough to have a real conversation. You're just-"

"Oh my God, James, I get it, okay? I get it! I'm a child, I'm selfish, immature, spoiled, manipulative, and generally just despicable, right? No one will ever love me, least of all Travis, isn't that right? I get it, alright, I understand!" she screamed.

Suddenly, he look shocked, almost contrite. "I... I didn't-"

"Oh, please," she said, her voice low and terribly bitter. "Don't try to deny it, James, you've been telling me all year what a horrible person I am! And you just stand there, like the goddamn king of the world, only ever talking about how vile _I_ am, and you never stop to think about the less virtuous aspects of your _own_ personality – and trust me, they do exist, regardless of what you and every Professor in this whole stupid school might think!" She choked back a sob, his eyes boring into her; she couldn't face him and instead turned to the bathroom door, making to flee the room.

His voice was quiet, almost soft enough that she didn't hear it. "I – I never-"

"You never what, James?" She turned to face him again, trying to ignore the tears that were now falling freely. She hated herself for crying in front of him. "You never cared? Because that much," she said quietly, "is very obvious."

And then she fled.

* * *

She sat atop the astronomy tower, a cold breeze stinging her face, which was already wet with tears. She'd grabbed her RocketRacer during her escape from his room and taken off out of her bedroom window, flying almost blindly as tear poured down her cheeks. She hated that she had let him see her cry. Why was it only he could make her feel so gut-wrenchingly horrid?

He drove her insane; the way he could make her so angry and yet still feel as though he was her only source of comfort in this crazy, mixed up world. _What the hell am I doing? _She thought, frustrated, for the thousandth time. Nothing ever seemed to make sense anymore. She was suddenly, burstingly glad to be going home for the holidays – away from Hogwarts, away from all this Voldemort drama – away from James.

She sighed, hugging her arms closer around her legs. It was freezing here, on the ledge of the tower, the freezing wind licking at her exposed skin – already she was longing to be back in his warm bed, his arms around her (there she went again) – she was still, she noted suddenly, only wearing her dressing gown. God, she must look ridiculous; thankfully she'd not seen anyone else, but she couldn't stay like this, she had to go back, she had to get changed. Or maybe she could just go to Gryffindor Tower, borrow Ally's clothes, staying hidden as she flew... yes, maybe that would work: anything to avoid seeing him right now. And then tomorrow they'd be going home, thank God, and she wouldn't have to see him for two whole glorious, Potter-free weeks... Surely, she'd be able to straighten herself out in that time, forget _stupid_ James Potter, and the _stupid_ way he made her feel – it wasn't even _him_, it was just the release his presence, his touch, his body, provided... She shook herself angrily, one question dominating her stressed, overwrought mind...

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

The ride home on the Hogwarts Express seemed to take forever. Ally and Frank sat across from her, sometimes talking quietly together, sometimes just sitting in silence, their fingers intertwined. Lily surveyed them idly; they seemed so happy just to sit there, not doing anything, just being. Not like her and James, who were all passion, no substance. Well, wasn't that obvious? Look at the arguments they had, on almost a daily basis, nearly always ending in one of two places – his bed or hers. Ally and Frank – they had a future. But would she? And with who? If James was right about her, who would ever really love _her_, and not just the image that people first saw of her – the image that she herself, James was adamant, had created?

Finally, the train slowed to a stop. Lily burst off the train; her goodbyes to Ally and Frank hurried and not particularly filled with Christmas spirit. She sighed deeply as she re-entered the muggle world. These people skittering her around her, their arms loaded with Christmas shopping, hurrying on to make the next train – they knew nothing of Voldemort, nothing of Death Eaters, Dark Marks, Cruciatus Curses, or wizards at all. For a second, she almost felt like she was a part of them. But then the image of that morning's _Daily Prophet _headline flashed through her mind – _Six-year-old Imperiused Boy Kills Mother and Father _– and she blanched. All she wanted was to go home and be a child in her father's arms again, not to think, not to feel anything but loved and safe.

Ducking her head, she hastened for the exit. Damien stood there, waiting, and the sleek black car behind him felt like a shelter from the moment she entered it. The buildings of London slipped past them once more, but Lily barely noticed them. Damien, at first, attempted to make small talk, but Lily's answers were short and reluctant, and he soon gave up the effort. She withdrew into herself, wanting only to be home.

They were approaching the house now; she could see its dark gates and tall hedges already. Lily's heart skipped a beat. Damien pulled the car into the long driveway, and she could barely contain her excitement. Finally the car was drawing to a stop. She couldn't wait for Damien to open the door, instead springing out of the limousine and bounding over to the palatial front door of the stately mansion. She looked up, still in admiration of its splendour, before she took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The lobby, though festooned with baubles, stars, wreaths and decorations, appeared to be otherwise quite empty. She looked around frustratedly, straining to hear footsteps. Then –

"Lily!" called her father delightedly, rushing down the sweeping front staircase, his smile wide and exuberant.

"Dad!" she cried. Lily rushed into his open arms, and as he held her close, she was his little girl once more. "I missed you so much," she said, eyes closed, not wanting to let go.

He reluctantly released her, his chocolate eyes crinkling happily as he surveyed her at arm's length. "It has been quite dull indeed without you here, my darling," he smiled. "You look beautiful, as always."

She blushed prettily and patted his face affectionately. "You don't look too bad yourself, _mon pére_," she said with a sly grin. "Although, you really should think about getting your hair cut."

"You sound just like your mother," said Christophé, rolling his eyes but smiling. "Come into the sitting room, I have some tea prepared for us. And I also have some news."

"What is it?" she demanded at once, of course, but he only continued to smile and said nothing, simply beckoning Lily to follow him up the staircase. The sitting room was already decorated like the rest of the house, but here – between the two large windows that faced the driveway – a tall Christmas tree stood, decorated with red, gold and silver. They took their seats opposite each other, beside the warm fire, with a tray of tea, biscuits, cakes and sandwiches arranged delicately on the coffee table between them. As she shrugged off her warm coat, she was automatically reminded of the many times she had sat opposite James like this, as well as the interactions between them that had followed... Lily ducked her head to hide her reddening cheeks. It was times like these that she immensely glad her father was not a wizard and therefore not capable of Legilimancy – or, for that matter, have any knowledge of James Potter and his famous family at all.

She allowed him to pour the tea and take his first sip before she burst out again. "So what's the news?" she asked. Lily loved surprises – something Christophé was well aware of.

He smiled knowingly at her, reminding her of Dumbledore, and replaced his tea cup on its china saucer. "If you really cannot wait," he said, raising an eyebrow slightly and looking amused.

"Of course not," she said, smiling too, and choosing a vanilla crème biscuit from the assortment in front of them.

"As I understand it," began Christophé, "there is substantial ideological and physical turmoil affecting the wizarding world. Many families have already been attacked, by a group calling themselves Death Eaters, led by a Dark wizard named Lord Voldemort, yes?"

Lily nodded. Aside from what she had mentioned in her letters, Christophé often read the _Daily Prophet_; he liked to keep up with his daughter and her hidden world.

"One of your classmates has been affected by these attacks very recently," he continued, his expression grave. Lily frowned in surprise.

"Who-?" she started.

"A friend of mine, David – last night, there was an attack on their home, and as such, its safety has of course been compromised – thus I have offered both David and his son a place to stay over Christmas, while they search for their new residence."

"Okay," said Lily slowly, still frowning; she was not entirely thrilled with the idea of sharing their holidays with a total, and most likely loser, stranger. "But _who_-"

"They should be arriving any minute now," said Christophé, glancing at his Cartiér watch, and apparently not hearing her. A crunching noise sounded from the ground below; a car had pulled into the turning circle in front of the house. Lily strode over to the window as her father stood behind her. The car was black, sleek and decorated by what looked like –

"Are those _Ministry_ flags?" she demanded, turning around to stare at her father. "David... you don't mean – you can't – not David _P_-?"

But before she could finish her sentence, the door bell below them rang. Christophé was already sweeping from the sitting room, and she hurried after him, still in shock.

"How _could_ you – didn't even ask-" she spluttered as they made their way down the stairs, but her father was already at the door, refusing their butler, Alfred's offer to open it. In one smooth motion, he swung the door open.

Two tall figures stood on the threshold. Christophé smiled at the grey-haired male, extending his arm. "David," he said lightly, shaking his hand. "And this must be James!"

Instantly, her worst fears were confirmed. James Potter stood there, all messy-hair and self-effacing smile, bags in hand. Lily bit her lower lip to keep herself from audibly groaning, while Christophé beckoned the two men inside.

James looked around the entranceway of their home, taking in its marble floors and pricey artworks, his eyes ignoring her entirely. "You've a lovely home, Mr Evans," he told her father earnestly. Lily saw his father look at James with quiet pride. She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms, turning back to Christophé, who had begun to speak again.

"We have plenty of room," he was insisting to David. "It's no imposition at all." He looked at the bags in James' hands, gesturing to Alfred, who was waiting quietly near the door leading to the front dining room. "Alfred will take your bags up to your room. David, where are your things? Are you not staying?"

"I'm afraid not, Christophé," said Mr Potter, checking his own watch. "There's simply too much to do at the Ministry, so I'll be staying on site. Not the most spirited way to spend the holidays, but..." his voice trailed, and he sighed heavily. "I don't think we would be having much of Christmas anyway, this year."

Lily sneaked a glance at James, whose eyes seemed to harden suddenly. David made his apologies and bade them all goodbye, thanking the Evans' once more, before clasping James' shoulder and speaking quietly to him. Lily used the opportunity their distracted attention provided to accost her own father.

"Dad!" she cried, in a furious undertone. "How could you not_ tell_ me that it was _James Potter_ coming to stay for the holidays?"

He frowned at her, also keeping his voice low. "Lily, I thought you and James were friends," he said, looking at her oddly. "You do live with him, after all."

"Yes, but-" She stopped herself. What could she say that would not incriminate both her and James? She settled with flashing a quick glare at him, Christophé continuing to look puzzled. "How do you even know him?" she demanded, flicking her eyes in James' father's direction.

"David is a big supporter of Puddlemere United," began Christophé excitedly, "and when I donated the brooms he invited me to watch a game from the Ministry Top Box-" He broke off as the Minister and James turned back to them.

"I'll be off, then," said David, opening the door. "It was lovely to meet you, Lily."

"And you," she offered, smile obligingly, and studiously ignoring James.

"You're welcome to spend Christmas Day – and any other time you have off – with us," Christophé asserted, shaking his hand once more. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"You've done more than enough," said Mr Potter kindly. "I can't thank you enough for your hospitality."

"Nonsense," said Mr Evans. "You're welcome any time." They waved James' father off, the Ministry car gliding silently and stealthily away. Stepping back into the much warmer house, Christophé clapped his hands together and addressed the two teenagers.

"So!" he said, smiling at James. "What would you like to do, James? Are you hungry? Would you prefer to rest? Or-" he looked at Lily "-Perhaps Lily could show you around the house? It is beautiful, I must say; if only Lily or I were here to enjoy it more..." He laughed; James smiled; and Lily glowered at both of them.

"I think I'd actually like to rest a little, if that's alright, Sir," admitted James.

"Of course, you must have had a trying day. Lily will show you to your room," declared Christophé; she gaped angrily at him, but he raised an eyebrow – for once, he would not give her what she wanted. James glanced sideways at her and Lily forced a smile.

"Follow me, then," she said, gesturing toward the staircase. Christophé announced that he would be retiring to his study for the afternoon, though he insisted they join him for dinner that evening in the dining room; he then departed. Lily and James began to make their way upstairs.

"Why are you here?" she asked, as soon as her father was out of earshot. "What happened?"

He must have noticed the brusque note in her voice, for he frowned slightly, but answered nonetheless. "Our house was attacked last night," said James. "Death Eaters. Six of them. Dad wasn't home, but-" He faltered, looking straight ahead. "There were casualties. A security wizard, and three house elves."

Lily shook her head slowly, confused. "But it wasn't in the paper-"

"The Ministry wanted to keep it quiet. No need to panic everyone more than they already are," said James, as they reached the top of the staircase, emerging into a long hallway lined with doors. "The Ministry Manor is supposed to be the most secure residence in the country, after all."

His news had distracted her, and she almost forgot how mad she was at him. He did seem to have that effect quite often on her. "Well, how did they do it, then?" asked Lily, frowning, as she led him down the corridor.

"No one's sure," said James. "One of the upper-level Aurors, Moody, thinks they must have inside information. A bunch of personnel from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were called in for questioning when I got there – Gilmour, Navarro, Travers, Young, Renwald – tons."

They had reached James' room; she twisted the handle and opened the door. "Here," she said simply, gesturing. His bags were already on the bed, which was understated but large, with a dark wood finish. She followed him and took a seat on the armchair in the corner as he settled on to the foot of the bed, apparently in thought.

"Well, I had no idea our dads were friends, let alone that you were spending Christmas at my house," said Lily, suddenly uncomfortable, "believe you me."

"Oh, I do," James assured her, with a sly grin. "The look on your face..." He laughed quietly. "Well, let's just say it was fairly obvious your Christmas would be Potter-free. So I'll forgive you if you've neglected to buy me a present."

She forced a laugh again, though she knew it sounded highly unnatural. "Well..." she said again as she stood, feeling awkward. "I guess I'll just let you rest, then, before dinner..." She turned on her heel and made to leave the room, but James interrupted her.

"Actually," he said hastily, and she turned to face him again; his expression was almost cajoling. "Would you mind showing me around the house?" She narrowed her eyes at him, a little suspicious, but he brushed off her misgivings with a shrug. "I just don't really feel like being alone right now."

Lily couldn't help but be a little surprised by this admission, but the look on his face was so uncomfortable that she didn't question him. Instead, she beckoned for him to follow her back into the long corridor again, hiding her puzzled face from his view. They made their way silently back down the staircase, pausing intermittently for Lily to point out the other guest bedrooms, the gym, and, downstairs, the main kitchen and the door behind which her father sat, working in his study.

"Your house is beautiful," said James, looking around the sitting room. "It reminds me a little of our old house in Godric's Hollow."

"Is that where you lived before your dad became Minister?" Lily asked him, and he nodded. "Why aren't you there now?"

"It was destroyed," he said quietly, still not looking at her, "in the attack on the village." Lily chanced a glance up at him, but his face was blank and his eyes dark. She looked away again and, silently, she led him over to a set of gilded double doors.

"This is my favourite room in the whole house," she told him, leading on the ornamented handles and pushing the heavy doors open with some effort. They walked in, James looking around and letting out a low whistle.

"A ballroom, hey?" he said, eyebrows raised, as his eyes swept over the high ceilings, glittering chandeliers and dusty antique chairs that were gathered in the northern corner.

"It doesn't get used much," she conceded, "but I love it. My dad says-" She dropped her gaze, blushing a little. "He says my mother loved going to balls. When he saw it, he said he had to have it."

He seemed to be looking at her oddly, and she knew why; she had never spoken about her mother to him before. Lily didn't really have a lot to say on the subject anyway, and ashamed of this, she rarely spoke about Maggie Evans.

"What was her name?" His voice was soft but his gaze bore into her intently: the perfect illustration of the paradox that was James Potter. Maybe if she still had her mother, Lily wondered, she'd be able to help Lily make sense of him... but it didn't do to dwell on the past, she reminded herself firmly, and besides, they were both in the same boat now.

"Margaret," said Lily, looking out the window onto the snow-covered grounds outside. "But everyone called her Maggie. Maggie Evans."

"That's a nice name," he said, smiling. He walked over to where she stood at the floor-to-ceiling window. Snow had begun falling again, silent and untouched. "Do you remember her?"

"Not really," she admitted. Her long hair was curled over her left shoulder, hiding her face, for which she was glad. "I just remember that she was really beautiful. Everyone tells me I have her eyes."

"Did she have your hair?" She could hear the smile in his voice. Lily had never felt more confused in her life – wasn't she _furious_ with him? And yet, there they were, broaching her most private sentiments – as she stood next to him, close enough to meet his lips with hers.

"No." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and his, when it came, was just as soft.

"I always loved your hair," he said. She couldn't help turning to him, her eyes raising themselves to meet his, and he tucked her soft curls behind her ear with a tenderness that almost brought her to tears. He was leaning in to her, his eyes glittering with danger; her stomach flipped and clenched; she raised her chin –

She stopped, abruptly, and pulled away. "What are we doing, James?" she said, her voice quiet and her eyes subdued. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He looked almost puzzled, and her anger kicked in – as if he didn't know _exactly_ what she was talking about. Her words spilled over each other in their rush to escape from her mouth. "You make me angrier than I could ever imagine being-" Was that amusement in his eyes? "-but then you go and say something like that... you tell me I'm a horrible person, but you're still willing to sleep with me, and even seem to pretend you actually _like_ me, although, of course, no one else ever would if they knew what I'm like, isn't that right? It's like I'm just a little game to you, an experiment, and sooner or later you're going to just wash your hands of me and be off-"

A bell rang from the other side of the door. Her eyes were flashing; her breathing was rapid and harsh, but all he could do was look at her.

She dropped her gaze. "That's dinner," she said, her voice monotonous once more. Lily turned on her heel, feeling him walk slowly along behind her, and led him down the labyrinth-like path toward the front dining room.

"Evening," she announced breezily, slipping past Christophé (who was already seated) and kissing his cheek quickly as she took the seat to his left. James slid into the seat on her father's right quietly, facing her; his gaze was almost engrossed in watching her, but she ignored him studiously. Lily kept up a steady chatter with her father, describing the Head dormitories, their homework load and filling him in on Ally's relationship with Frank. As Ally had once stayed with the Evans over the summer between fifth- and sixth-years, he was almost as eager to protect her as Lord Fenton seemed to be, and Lily actually managed a giggle at this.

"Well," said Christophé, clapping his hands together as a maid cleared the dishes of their main course. "How about a nightcap, then? Or perhaps, James," he said brightly, turning to him, "Lily could show-?"

"Actually, Dad, I might just go to bed," she said hurriedly, already moving to free herself from her chair, "it's been a long day, and I'm kind of tired. Night!" She kissed his cheek again and hastily swept past James and from the room, almost bowling over Alfred in her haste to escape. She practically flew up the stairs – actually, come to think of it, her RocketRacer would definitely come in handy, getting around this mammoth house – and into her room, leaning on the door and sighing after she'd closed it.

_Dear God_, she thought to herself, eyes bunched up as she unwittingly thought of the last few hours. _I barely made it through dinner. How on earth am I supposed to last til New Year's Day?_

* * *

Lily awoke late the next day, bunched into a corner, wrapped in her covers. Yawning, she stretched and straggled out of bed; she was already praising every deity she could think of for miraculously missing hitting her head on the bedpost when she was realised there wasn't one to hit. It took another second or two to realise where she was – at home, not at Hogwarts – and _still_ not James Potter-less. That explained the stabbing pains in her forehead, then. She shrugged on her cashmere robe, not bothering to change, and pulled her hair back into a long ponytail as she yawned again. Her slipper-clad feet made odd shuffling noises as she dragged herself down to the kitchen, requesting Eggs Benedict from Mario (which, unfortunately, was the only thing the Hogwarts' house elves seemed to be unable to make) and moved from there into dining room, where she fell sluggishly into a chair.

"I guess, by now, I shouldn't be surprised that you're not a morning person," came a lazy drawl. James sat across from her, smirking. "Want some coffee?"

"No, thank you," she said, grimacing a little. Right on time, a maid arrived with her tea, and Lily smiled and thanked her. "How can you drink that stuff?" Inane questions, at least, kept him from raising the topic of their most honest conversation yet – that, she definitely wasn't morning-person-enough for.

"Better than what you're drinking," he commented, taking a sip from his own cup. "Hot water with a bit of flavour? Lovely."

"It's hardly patriotic of you," she said, grinning grudgingly. He shrugged, taking a bite of his toast in a way that so reminded her of Sirius that she actually giggled.

Christophé strode briskly into the room, clad in a grey business suit and black shirt, but no tie. His carefully put-together outfit, however, was the work of a very well paid stylist, who had instructed him to never, ever try to attempt to match anything that was not specifically paired already. If it was up to him, Lily knew her father would attempt to slink out of the house in jeans and a grubby old Clash t-shirt, even when meeting the Prime Minister. He smiled down at the pair of them. "Morning," he called in his deep voice, its familiarity comforting Lily. "What are you two up to today?"

James looked at her, but Lily's face was blank. "I don't know," she said, almost surprised. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, it is Christmas Eve," said Christophé, his eyes twinkling. Though not green, like her own, they shared the same undeniable sparkle. "You might need to finish your Christmas shopping!"

"That's true," said James. "There are a few things I still need to pick up."

Christophé raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Whatever you do, then, don't go anywhere without this one," he said, inclining his head toward Lily, whose eyes narrowed a little suspiciously. "Seasoned shopper, she is. Lily gives my credit cards more of a workout than my personal trainer gives _me_."

She grinned innocently. "It's only because I love you, Daddy," she said with as syrupy sweetness, and she heard James actually laugh. "And I'm only buying things for _you_, of course!"

"Yes," said Christophé, rolling his eyes jokingly. "That'll be the day." He nabbed a muffin from the spread on the table and Alfred brought over his briefcase, delivering Lily's eggs as he did so. He kissed the top of her head and waved at James with the hand holding the muffin.

"I'm just popping into the office; I should be back by this afternoon. Let Alfred know if you need anything. And don't get into too much trouble!" he called, sweeping out the door.

"So, you want to go shopping then?" James asked her, as Lily started on her eggs (even if Mario couldn't understand the concept of an egg, bacon and cheese sandwich, his hollandaise sauce was so good that he more than made up for it).

"Sounds good to me," she said, after she'd swallowed. "Only as long as we go anywhere _but_ Diagon Alley, though. They have, like, five stores there. It's so boring."

James looked at her oddly. "...And there was that big attack there not long ago?" he finished for her.

Lily paused, remembering. She shrugged. "Oh. Right." He shook his head, returning to his toast, but there was a slight grin on his face. She finished her eggs quickly, telling the maid to thank Mario for her, and they headed back up the stairs together. He seemed to have chosen to ignore the events of last night for the time being, and she decided to do the same; they did have to live together, after all, both here and at Hogwarts, and Lily wanted to enjoy her Christmas. Besides... she could think of another way to torture him...

He dropped her at her room and continued onto his own. It struck her, for the first time, just how close their rooms were; his was right across the hall and up one door to the right of hers, not ten metres away. Of course, she would have no desire to go anywhere near that part of the hall when Petunia and Vernon arrived tonight, into the room beside James' and across from her own. The thought of her sister and that whale in bed together made her want to retch.

* * *

She changed quickly and met him downstairs again, as they had planned. She drew a thick white coat over her jeans and sweater, tossing a scarf around her neck. He waited while she pulled on her heeled brown boots by the door.

"How are we getting there?" asked James. "It's freezing outside. Is it far? Do you have a driver?"

"I do," confirmed Lily, pulling herself up to her full height. "But he's not taking us."

"Then how-?" he asked, but she silenced him with a sly smile, and, reaching into her bag, dangled a set of keys in his front of him. The golden image of a bull glittered from them. "Oh, no," he breathed, a look of horror overwhelming his expression.

"Oh, _yes_," she said, grinning evilly. The front door opened; Damien stepped in, smiling at them.

"I've brought your car around as requested, Miss Evans," he said.

"Thank you, Damien," she said brightly, eyes shining. Damien took one look at her and clapped a hand to James' shoulder sympathetically.

"Good luck," he said simply, and Lily giggled as James' eyes widened further.

"What-" he began, but she dragged him out the door.

"Come on," she said impatiently. The Gallardo stood before, sleek, black and dangerous. Lily clapped her hands together delightedly. "Oh, I've missed you," she practically crooned in its direction. James looked at her fleetingly, his expression almost wild, as she pressed a button on the keys, watching the butterfly doors pop open.

"Get in," she told him, sliding into the drivers' seat. She noticed the driveway had already been cleared of the snow by the grounds staff, for which Lily was grateful; this would make it _so_ much easier to scare the life out of him.

"Are you-" He swallowed, hesitating outside the open door. "Are you legally allowed to drive this thing?"

"Not quite," she admitted, almost shaking with repressed laughter as she saw his legs stiffen; he still hadn't climbed inside the car. "I wasn't _exactly_ old enough for my permit when I went for it, but I managed to fudge the numbers a little. Besides," she said, sticking her head to the side of the car where she could see him from, "when has that ever stopped you?"

His eyes met hers; he couldn't resist the challenge. Semi-reluctantly, he slid in beside her. She pushed another button and the doors slid shut with a _hiss_, sealing them inside. He looked uncertainly at her as she started the car, cranking 'London Calling' by the Clash on the iPod sitting in its dock– a cliché, she knew, but she couldn't resist. He looked a little green; she grinned and revved the engine playfully.

"Ready?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

"Lily, are you sure we can't-"

She slammed her foot down and they were off, his words lost as she tore out onto the street and his expletives mingling with her shouts of delight as they ploughed on toward the city.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the car screeched to a stop, and a very ill-looking James Potter stumbled out.

"_Never_ – again," he said resolutely, his hand over his mouth as he walked away quickly. Lily stepped out, handing the keys over to the valet, and grinning.

"Oh, honestly, James," she said calmly. "You're still alive, aren't you? I'd say you've got nothing to complain about." She smiled winningly at the man running the valet booth, who stared at her as she signed her name. They made their way toward the elevator, above which read a sign saying 'To Store'.

He ignored her jibe, leaning against the wall while they waited for the lift. "Where are we, anyway?"

She raised her eyebrows, gesturing around them. "In a car park...?"

"I know that," he said impatiently. She smirked to herself; it was much more fun to be on this side of the teasing for once. He nodded to the elevator in front of them, and its doors opened. "Where are we going?"

"Heaven," she informed him, as they stepped inside the empty lift. "Some people call it Harrods, but after Diagon Alley, I call it paradise."

* * *

"And what exactly are _those_?" said James, looking revolted. They were in the grand food hall, inspecting the French food stand; Lily giggled.

"Escargot," she told him calmly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning closer to inspect the grey blobs in front of them. "They look like snails!"

"That's probably because they are," said Lily, looking amused.

"What?" he half-shouted, horrified, and springing back. "Snails? Muggles eat _snails_?"

Lily stuffed her knuckles in her mouth as a sales assistant approached them.

"May I help you?" the assistant asked snootily. Lily's eyes met James' quickly and they both struggled to contain themselves. Lily smiled sweetly at the man, taking in his slicked-back hair and his slim-line glasses, perched pretentiously at the end of his up-turned nose.

"Just looking," she said silkily, dragging James over to another food stand.

He inspected the trays in front of them warily. "I don't suppose there's bits of spiders in here, is there?" he asked, poking doubtfully at the black edges of the rice rolls.

"No," said Lily, smiling as she shook her head; it was actually kind of fun to just hang out with him like this, with no pressure. "Mostly just raw fish."

The same horrified expression came over his face again. "What-?" he began, but she ordered two small pieces of Californian roll – her favourite – and handed him one.

"Try it," she encouraged him. "It's really nice." He looked at her doubtfully but obliged, chewing slowly and thoughtfully.

"Good, huh?" she said, finishing her own piece.

He nodded slowly, looking surprised. "For raw fish," he agreed.

"Well, that technically wasn't raw fish," she conceded. "But this one is. It's raw tuna sashimi, and it's good. Try it," she urged. James, quite adamantly, utterly refused.

"Sorry, Princess," he said, grinning. "Not a chance in hell."

"Oh, really?" she said, arching an eyebrow, and pushing the last piece towards his face, dodging his attempts to swat her hand away. They were both laughing too loudly to notice the sales assistant approaching them again.

"Excuse me," said the man irritably, looking rather unimpressed. Lily rolled her at eyes at James and turned to face the man once again.

"Listen, James Bond," she said, her voice low as she pulled a credit card from her bag – the glittering Black AmEx Centurion Card. "Why don't you just take this and charge whatever damage you think we've caused to it at the end of our shopping, and leave us alone? That way, we're both happy." She smiled sweetly again, though without any effort at sincerity. The man's demeanour changed instantly – almost like magic – as his eyes took in the card, and the name printed on it.

"Certainly, Miss Evans," he said graciously, his voice as slick as his hair. James eyed the man with distaste as he left them, whisking over to the door in the south-west corner of the hall, presumably to inform his even-greasier boss of Lily's presence.

"I hate having to do that," she said with a grimace, "because then they never you leave you alone, but that guy was getting on my last nerve."

She was surprised to see him nodding in concurrence. "That's like whenever I go out with my dad," he said, still looking disgruntled. "Everyone sucking up to us, wanting a piece of him... it annoys the hell out of me."

"I guess it doesn't matter which world you live in," Lily said, sighing dramatically, "there's people just like Slughorn everywhere." She grinned at him, grabbing his hand. "Come on. Let's actually go look for presents, now."

* * *

They wandered up to the jewellery section, browsing everything from watches to necklaces to cufflinks to hairpins.

"Maybe I should get Dad a new watch?" she mused, looking over the Rolex section, as the sales girl smiled winningly at them. "He's had that old Cartier for ages."

"Was that the one he was wearing at dinner last night?" asked James, and she nodded. "No, I like that one. It's classic." He glanced at a selection from Omega, frowning. "Maybe I should get one, though. I guess I'm just wearing mine out of habit, still, since it hasn't worked since August."

"Why's that?" asked Lily, intrigued, as she fiddled with a gold bracelet from Cartier.

"It's a very long story, involving Sirius, a bucket of red paint, and my mother," said James. She turned to him and was surprised to see him smiling, albeit ruefully. "Although it was a long time before either Sirius or I got the paint off properly."

"Your mum sounds like she was a lot fun," said Lily, a little tentatively, but he continued to smile.

"She was." James grinned, apparently at the memory, then faltered. "It feels weird, you know? Having one less present to buy, and all that. My mum used to love Christmas." She smiled sadly up at him, not really knowing what to say, but he went on. "It's probably a good thing, though; I'm rubbish at picking out presents." He turned and inspected the watches again, and Lily turned back to the Cartier section, browsing disinterestedly at diamond studs and tennis bracelets, when something caught her eye.

"Oh!" she couldn't help letting out, but regretted it almost immediately as the sales assistant swooped down on her like a vulture, grinning manically. James came over, effectively saving her.

"What is it?" he asked, and she pointed down at the display cabinet. "Wow. That _is_ beautiful."

It was. It was a silver hair pin, emblazoned with emeralds and a smattering of diamonds. The assistant lifted it from its display box, holding it in front of them with long, French-manicured nails that could have passed for talons. She lifted it to Lily's hair, holding it against the fiery locks.

"It looks as though it were made for you," simpered the sales girl. Lily ignored her, turning instead to James, who was inspecting the price tag. He let out a low whistle.

"What do you think?" she asked him.

"It's looks great," he conceded, and a slow smile spread over her face, her eyes sparkling delightedly. "It's expensive, though."

Lily almost laughed. "Trust me, James," she said, holding the pin to her hair and inspecting her reflection in the mirror. "It's not a problem." The sales girl was trying – and failing – to hide the ecstatic look on her face. Lily could practically feel her counting her commission already.

"After seeing your 'house', that's a fact I'm well aware of," smiled James, taking the pin from her. "But that means it's not special; it's just something else you put on daddy's credit card." She glared at him and opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke again, silencing her. "Unless," he said, his voice much softer now, and his eyes intent upon hers, "you let me buy it for you."

Lily started. "James-" she said, her breath catching in her throat from the look on his face. "Are – are you sure? I mean, like you said... it's a lot of money..."

"I'm sure," he said, eyes glittering. "You're not the only one with a trust fund, you know."

Lily rolled her eyes at him, but smiled all the same. "That's really nice of you, James," she said lightly, then finally glanced at the price tag. Her eyes widened. "A whole lot of nice, apparently!" He laughed, handing his own card over to the ferocious sales girl. "At least, this way, you don't have to think of a Christmas present for me."

"Actually, I've already got you one," he admitted, looking a little surprised at himself. Lily blinked, then laughed, dragging him over to the watch section.

"That's it," she announced. "I'm getting you a watch." He started to protest, but she shushed him, pointing out the ones she liked and turning her nose up at others. He finally settled on a Cartier that looked just like her father's, though he continued to protest even as it was being gift-wrapped.

"Honestly, Lily, it's not like I-"

"Oh, James, get over it," she told him firmly. "Like you said, it's not about the money. It's special because it's from me." She blushed a little as she said it, and he smiled, looking (she was shocked to see) rather pleased. An idea struck her. Leaving the packages with the sales girl to be picked up later, Lily managed to point him in the direction of the animal menagerie – "Merlin, what is that?" he said, startled, as he observed an iguana – and turned back to the girl, who began to look excited again.

"Did you want the matching ring?" the girl asked breathlessly, reaching for it.

"No, no," said Lily impatiently. "I just wanted... actually, how long would it take to get an inscription made on that watch I just bought?"

"We could do it right now," said the girl diligently, though she looked slightly less energetic. "Less than an hour, probably, if it's short."

"Great," breathed Lily. "Here..." she grabbed a piece of spare parchment from her bag as the girl handed a pen to write with; it's smooth, cool surface felt strange in her fingers after weeks of having used only quills. She scrawled a short message on the paper, handing it back to the girl. "Short enough?"

The sales assistant read it over, her alligator-like teeth showing as a smile stretched over her aggressively-made up face. "That's perfect."

* * *

They returned home much later, laden with gifts for others (and for themselves, in Lily's case). James had, at first, point-blank refused to ride home with her in the Lamborghini again, but after much persuading and even some threats (he visibly blanched as she described the kind of wait he could expect if they called for Damien, surrounded by the over-eager assistants upstairs), he had reluctantly climbed in to the passenger seat.

"It's not that bad," said Lily, rolling her eyes as they walked in the front hall of the mansion; she handed the keys to Damien, who pretended to look surprised that James was still alive. Lily laughed as James scowled a little.

"Not that bad?" he repeated, eyebrows raised, then went on in an undertone. "Bloody thing's a death trap..."

She unwrapped her scarf, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, Sirius told me he's a getting a motorbike," she said casually.

"A motorbike?" His tone was uncertain.

"Yeah," said Lily. "It's like a car – probably about as fast as mine – but it's only got two wheels, no seatbelt, and no walls. Oh, and he wants to make it fly."

He blanched again; she hid a giggle. "Please," he said, looking at her beseechingly, "please tell me you're joking - it's not true..."

A voice rang out from the corridor above them; Lily recognised it instantly, and groaned.

"I wish it wasn't," she grumbled, as two figures appeared at the top of the stairs, one bony and horse-faced, the other resembling a puce version of Slughorn.

"Lily," said the female, lips pursed as she looked down at them. "How... delightful."

Lily's sister looked even less pleased to see her than she last had; this, in itself, was evidently some kind of miracle. The newly-married couple made their way down the stairs, her posture stiff as he waddled along beside her.

"Petunia," she acknowledged, forcing a half-smile (the best she could do), "Vernon..." The whale-like man's piggy eyes squinted down at her in what she thought just might be an attempt at a smile. "This is James, my friend from school."

His face flickered momentarily with a bewildered distaste – probably for Lily's benefit – before he became his regular, Head Boy, charming self. "What a pleasure," he said, striding forwards, shaking Vernon's hand and actually kissing Petunia's. Her sister simpered, just as the girl at Harrods had done earlier; it was a shame, really, that Petunia had no need to work, for she would have fit right in with the other gossipy, commission-counting, nail-filing sales assistants. Lily rolled her eyes perceptibly, but no one was paying any attention to her; Vernon was now attempting to engage James in a conversation about his favourite topic – drills – whilst Petunia gazed adoringly at him, often interjecting with comments about Vernon's new promotion. When she could take it no longer, she cleared her throat audibly.

"Uh, James?" she called, readjusting the bags in her arms. "Do you think you could give me a hand getting these bags upstairs?"

"Don't be stupid, Lily, one of the house staff can get those-" began Petunia, her lips pursing with annoyance, whilst Vernon looked on, thoroughly disappointed he hadn't managed to engage James in conversation a bit longer.

James, however, smiled amiably, grabbing some of the packages from her and picking up his own. "Sure, Lily," he cut across Petunia, and followed her up the stairs and straight into her bedroom. A wicked grin cracked his face as soon as she'd shut the door.

"That's your _sister_?" he asked disbelievingly, dark eyes glittering. He flopped down onto the bed next to her. "Are you sure? I'd ask for a DNA test, if I were you."

His reference to the muggle paternity test surprised her, but she just smirked. "I know," said Lily. "Dad always says he couldn't imagine having two daughters who were less alike."

"I'm guessing she's not a witch, then," grinned James, using his wand to unpack some of the packages. Unlike her – who was now only days away from her seventeenth birthday, on December 31st – he was of age, though Lily had warned him not to use magic in front of the house staff (not that there was much need for it in this house, anyway). Lily raised her eyebrows at his comment, sighing.

"No," she affirmed. She didn't know what made her say it – only Ally knew this – but something about his eyes made her want to spill her secrets. "In fact... she doesn't know I am one, either."

He actually sat up, staring at her disbelief. "Your own sister doesn't know that you're a _witch_?" he practically shouted, and she shushed him immediately. "Sorry – I just – how could you _not_ tell her?"

Lily squirmed a little, uncomfortable under his astounded gaze. It was a question she'd asked herself many times. "Well, she really freaked out at this magic show Mum took us to when I was three, so Dad just thought it was better not to tell her..." He gaped at her, still agog, and she rambled on helplessly. "And then we thought she might be jealous, or something, so we kept putting it off, and then it was already years after I'd first gone off to Hogwarts and she still hadn't suspected anything, and I barely saw her as it was, so it was sort of just easier not to tell her..."

James' expression changed for the first time since she'd told him, and he let out a hollow chuckle. "I can't believe you haven't told her," he said. "Where does she think you go for three-quarters of the year?"

"Boarding school, in Switzerland," she told him rather miserably, "like everyone else. It's not funny," Lily insisted, as he continued to laugh, but his chuckles were so contagious she reluctantly began to giggle. "Okay, maybe it is," she conceded, a little breathless with laughter.

A knock sounded on the door. "Come in," Lily called, and a maid, Abigail, stuck her head in and announced that dinner was being served in the dining room.

"This should be good," said Lily, leading him through the corridor and down the stairs. "Roast turkey, cranberry sauce, and a chance for Petunia to insult me over five courses. Sounds like Christmas to me!"

"She can't be that bad," said James doubtfully as they passed through the front lobby.

"Wanna bet?" said Lily under her breath. "If she doesn't already hate me enough already, just imagine what she'd be like if she knew I was a witch. Just watch. Then you'll see why she doesn't know."

They entered the front dining room. Christophé was already seated at the head of the table, Vernon and Petunia seated to his right. Carols filled the room; Lily recognised snatches of 'I'll Be Home For Christmas' as she took her own seat to her father's left, James next to her. Christophé, who had arrived home even later than they had after his 'brief' day at the office, surveyed them smilingly. Vernon and Petunia were making horrible cooing noises at each other, and Lily could barely keep her disgust from her face. Thankfully, the first course arrived promptly, forcing the couple to look at their food and not each other – food being a fairly convincing distraction for Vernon Dursley. Unfortunately, the dish was too small to keep him occupied for long, and he somehow managed to steer the conversation toward drills, and his promotion, once more.

"And then the director said he expected me to be in _his_ position in twenty years time, with a much wider range of drills at the company's disposal-"

"You know, Vernon, that's just fascinating," Christophé stated, over the top of his son-in-law, before he rather unsubtly changed the subject. "Lily, James, how was your day? Did you end up going shopping?"

"We did," confirmed Lily, smiling sidelong at James. "I took James out in the Gallardo."

"Oh, darling, you didn't," said Christophé, though he grinned, observing James. "Still alive, then?"

"Barely," countered James, grinning too. "I can't believe you bought her that thing. Could've killed me."

"Oh, don't worry, James," interjected Petunia's voice airily, but a nasty expression besmirched her thin face. "It's just another item on a long list of things Lily's managed to wrangle out of Father."

Their father frowned. "Petunia-" he began warningly, but Lily cut across him.

"As opposed to you, of course, _Petty_," said Lily, keeping her tone light and expression innocent, as she purposefully used the nickname her sister hated, "who now plays housewife while her husband goes out and earns the money-"

"Lily!" said Christophé sharply. She started; her father barely ever raised his voice, but his eyes were indisputably flashing with admonition.

"Sorry," she mumbled grudgingly, but in his direction. Petunia, across the table, was looking mutinous; Vernon looked bewildered; and though James' expression was blank, his eyes glittered with amusement that only she could notice. Lily seethed through the second course, all of them rather subdued. Alfred brought over another bottle of wine, red this time, and Lily stared longingly at it as James, the of-age wizard, happily accepted the glass offered by Christophé.

"May I have some?" she inquired, gesturing to her empty glass. Alfred looked to Christophé.

"Well, you will be of age in a week," said her father, visibly relenting, and he motioned Alfred to pour some into Lily's goblet. "Go on, then." Lily took a quick, deep swallow of the warm, spicy liquid, wishing it was Firewhisky – or at the very least something with a bit more kick – anything to make sitting in her sister's glowering presence more palatable...

But Petunia was frowning at her as she lowered her glass to the table again. "What are you talking about, Father?" she asked, her expression odd. "Lily's not eighteen for another year."

Lily felt James stiffen slightly beside her.

"In Switzerland, darling, they come of age at seventeen," supplied Christophé hastily, with a sideways look at Lily, who nodded innocently. "It's a different culture over there." This was apparently good enough, for Petunia closed her mouth again and merely scowled at Lily, who took another sip of her wine, sighing deliberately as she finished. The third and fourth courses arrived with fewer demonstrations of 'sisterly love', and the combination of excellent food, good wine and the soothing carols lulled them all into a much more relaxed state. Christophé steered the conversation back to Lily and James' shopping trip.

"So where did you go?" he asked, leaning back relaxedly in his chair. "Harrods?"

"Of course," Lily stated, and he smiled. "James was _very_ impressed with the food hall."

"I just couldn't get over that escargot stuff," James told him, shaking his head. "I mean, snails? I can't believe muggles would willingly put that in their mouths."

"'Muggles'?" repeated Vernon, actually managing to speak on something other than drills, and looking bemused. "What are muggles?"

Lily recovered quickest. "Oh, it's like slang, for England," she pronounced. "Or Englanders. Whatever."

Petunia, never wanting to seem out of the loop – even if it meant pretending to agree with Lily – concurred quickly. "Yes, Vernon, I used it just the other day, don't you remember?"

"Oh... er-" stammered her husband, piggy eyes bulging. Lily and James hastily stifled their sniggers and Christophé dropped them a tiny wink.

"Did you try any of the escargot?" her father went on, reprieving Vernon.

James shuddered. "No," he declared adamantly, "but Lily did get me to try this other thing – soozee, I think it was-"

"Sushi," she corrected him, smirking.

"-yes, that – and even though Lily said it was raw fish, it was actually quite nice," conceded James. Lily chose not to point out once again that he'd refused to try the raw fish, instead smiling at her father.

"And I found the most amazing hairpin, Dad, it's just beautiful-"

"I'm sure it was," said Petunia, never missing an opportunity, "and how much did it cost, Lily? Probably thousands of pounds, not that you'd care, you just put it on Father's Black Card and never think about it again-"

"That's enough, Petunia," growled Christophé, his eyes narrowed unhappily.

Lily was seething, but she didn't want to give her sister the satisfaction. "Whatever. I'm getting some more wine," she announced, and swept out of the room before anyone could protest.

She ducked through the kitchen and marched down into the cellar, shivering a little in its much cooler climate. "Stupid Petunia," she muttered, searching through the Pinots, "stupid Vernon, stupid bloody _Dursleys_..." She was too angry to see straight, and instead snatched at a bottle at random, stalking back out of the cellar and into the kitchen. James looked up as she entered.

"I wondered where you'd gone," he said lightly, not bothering to explain his own inexplicable presence beside the stovetop. "What'd you get? Oh, a merlot, excellent."

"God, I can't stand her," Lily burst out, letting him take the bottle from her without noticing. "She thinks she's so high and mighty, just because she's married now... It's not like she doesn't dip into her own trust fund every time she wants a new pair of Louboutins." She crossed her arms over her heaving chest, leaning against the bench top, and scowling at the stainless-steel fridge.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," said James, looking mildly bemused, "but she's just jealous, you know."

Lily stared.

"No, seriously," he went on. "It's pretty obvious you're your father's little girl. Just the way he looks at you... well, it's no wonder she feels the need to drag you down every chance she gets."

She was shocked by his pronouncement, though of course it made sense: how Petunia had withdrawn from her after their mother's death; her hasty marriage to Vernon, her very first boyfriend. Petunia had been eager to leave home early on, regardless of the fact that Lily was barely ever around.

He was looking at her intently. "You know how I told about Dementors, the guards of Azkaban, the wizarding prison? How they force a person to relieve their worst memories?" Lily nodded slowly; what the hell did they have to do with this? "Well, once, when I was a younger, I took a trip to Azkaban with my father. I was heading down a bit of bad path at the time, just after second year, and I guess he was hoping to knock some sense into me. And it worked, too, I can tell you that much. When I got near the guards, I-" He swallowed, obviously hesitant, though he continued all the same. "I remembered the day my mother suffered a miscarriage, when I was nine. It was the worst day of my life, at the time." 

His eyes deadened as he seemed to recall the incident; Lily was horror-struck, but she couldn't move her eyes from his. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff. "I always wanted a brother," he told her, smiling sadly, "or a sister, even; it didn't matter. I guess that's why I'm so close to Sirius. He's like the sibling I never had."

Lily moved toward him on feet that felt like they were being compelled by an invisible force. She placed her hand over his where it rested on the bench top, and looked up at him slowly. "James, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, her eyes full of emotion. "I never-"

The door banged open; Petunia stood there, lips pursed. Lily jumped back from James as her sister brushed past them and grabbed the bottle of wine. Could she have heard them? "What took so long?" she snapped, before she turned and left as abruptly as she had come. Lily's breathing was rapid with the shock her sister's appearance had caused; she swallowed, trying to calm herself, and looked up almost warily at James, whose face was unreadable once more.

"Come on," he said quietly. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Much later that night, after pudding and many, many nightcaps – Christophé himself getting far too merry from the wine that he barely noticed the amount ingested by Lily or James – she lay in bed, the alcohol in her veins calming her more thoroughly than a massage. She sighed, her eyelids heavy. _That wasn't so bad as it usually was_, she mused. A combination of the copious amounts of wine and uninitiated company seemed to conciliate Petunia a little, and her jabs at Lily had been much fewer and farther between. _At least I know for next time... all I need to bring to the table is a bottle of merlot and James Potter... James..._

His face seemed to swim in front of her eyes: his messy hair, his shifty grin, his glittering dark gaze. She'd enjoyed shopping with him today, just the two of them, no stress, no pressure; almost as though they were just two friends hanging out... she thought of the hairpin, the watch, and the inscription the latter now bore... or maybe as more than friends, almost like they were a couple... she rolled over, trying to sleep – it was past midnight, after all, and technically already Christmas Day – but her inebriated brain was too entrenched in thoughts of _him_, shopping with him, talking to him, wanting him...

Before she'd even thought it over, Lily's feet had swung themselves out of her warm bed and carried her to her door. She pulled it open, wincing at it creaked a little; thankfully, though, as she waited, she heard no footsteps approaching, and so she stepped out in to the dark hall.

It was almost completely silent in the corridor, save for the ticking of the antique clock above the western wall. She could just make out, from the glint of its golden handles, the time: it was a quarter to one in the morning, and the house appeared deserted. Taking a deep breath, Lily tiptoed across the hall and, hesitating only slightly as he fingers met the cold handle, pushed open the door to James' room.

A pair of tired eyes loomed down at her; she stifled a scream and sucked in a noisy breath.

"_James?_" she managed, still shocked.

He seemed to grin at her – it was so dark she could barely make out the white of his teeth – and then he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into the room with a roughness that thrilled her. He shut the door quickly and placed her against it, his lips almost on hers.

"What were you doing up?" she whispered, though she hardly cared to hear the answer – not with this much wine in her, not with him so close.

This time, she couldn't miss the smirk that lit his features. "Exactly what you were doing," he said, his voice low. And then he kissed her.

* * *

He'd left the curtain open. He never used to do that; at least, not before they started spending their nights together, and then she'd started doing it for him. Lily frowned at the open window, James' arm curled over her waist. Snow was falling soundlessly again. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? She shook herself. The clock facing her, resting on the bedside table nearest the window, read 5.34 am. The Evans family, especially at Christmas, were traditionally early risers (a tradition which apparently did not extend to her); she needed to get back to her own bed before Christophé woke them, as he always did on Christmas morning, at 6.00 am, with the Frank Sinatra version of 'Jingle Bells' (thankfully, he chose to do so with the recorded version, and not his own rather terrible singing voice).

She slipped out of bed carefully, taking care not to wake James. She looked back at him just as she made to slip out the door; he looked so peaceful, and much more relaxed than she had seen him in recent weeks. She made her way noiselessly across the corridor, the thick carpet muffling her steps, and back into her own room. Her father's room was in the opposite wing of the mansion, but Lily could never discount Petunia's inclination to tarnish Lily's image in their father's eyes. She sighed deeply as she closed her own bedroom door, closing her eyes. What on earth _was_ she doing – especially here, in her father's house? As she opened her eyes, however, she was distracted by the large pile of bags and presents that she had left there upon their return from Harrods – oh God, she'd meant to move them to the sitting room and under the tree, but... Well, she'd just take them now, Lily decided. She gathered the many colourful boxes in her arms, edged over to the door and managed to somehow open it without dropping anything. Stealthily, she made her way down the corridor and into the sitting room.

The tree stood tall, almost scraping the ceiling. Presents were piled beneath its branches in a cacophony of colours, shapes and sizes. Lily stood by the fire for a moment, just looking at it and smiling; she really did love Christmas, even if it meant being shunted into the same room as Petunia for hours on end. She moved toward the tree, dropping her packages wherever she could find room, and stepped back again to admire her work.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" came a voice from the doorway. Christophé leant against the frame, smiling at her. "I'm surprised to find you awake already, darling. Usually I have to carry you down here myself."

She walked over to where he stood, hugging him and kissing his cheek. "I forgot to put my gifts under the tree," she confessed, grinning. "So I thought I'd get up and do it before anyone caught me."

"Didn't think your old man would be up to the task, eh?" he jested, nudging her playfully. "Come on, then. We may as well wake the rest of the troops." He stuck his head out the door and she heard him call to one of the house staff to play 'Jingle Bells', then put his arm around Lily again. They waited for the others, playing a silly game in which they tried to guess which packages held what, before James shuffled through the door (his hair was messier than ever), followed by Petunia and Vernon. Petunia pulled her dressing gown tighter around her.

"It's freezing in here," she said, her lips pursing bitterly.

_What a lovely way to start the morning,_ Lily (barely) managed to keep herself from saying aloud, _full of Christmas cheer and complaints_. She caught James' eye and had to look away hurriedly as she saw the smirk on his face.

They spent the next hour or so exchanging gifts, which were plentiful. Lily had bought Petunia a limited-edition-print Hermés scarf (which her sister actually had to hide her delight over), a Cartier diamond tennis bracelet, and a cookbook on dinner party entertaining; for Vernon, she had purchased a book on the history of modern drills (James hastily turned his laughter into a hacking cough), an Omega watch and season tickets to the Manchester United home games. Her brother-in-law actually smiled at her as he thanked her for the gifts.

Lily fared well, too, with several pairs of Jimmy Choos, a gold Chanel dress and an Hermés Birkin from her father (chosen with evident help from his stylist), a quilted Chanel clutchfrom Petunia and, inexplicably, a book on gardening from Vernon. "Oh... wow," she said, veritably speechless with surprise. "That's – er – lovely. Thank you, Vernon," she managed, ignoring the amusement dancing in James' eyes.

She could hardly wait for Christophé to open her present, but the look on his face when he opened was worth it.

"Oh, Lily, darling, you didn't!" he cried, as he pulled the bottle from the gift bag, beaming. The 1952 Merlot gleamed in his hand as he surveyed it. "This," he told the others, "is the wine Maggie and I drank at our wedding. I've been looking for it for years, but..." He looked at her, still astounded. "How did you find it?"

Lily dropped a wink at him. "Magic," she said simply, grinning. It was true: she'd merely summoned the nearest bottle, then – with the help of a neat tracing charm she'd picked up from Flitwick – banished several hundred pounds to take its place. Her father and James laughed while Vernon smiled bemusedly, but Petunia seemed to looking at her warily. _She's just jealous_, she told herself firmly, looking away. _Don't even think about it._

James was placing a gift in her lap; it was too heavy to be the hairpin, and she looked up at him in surprise. "What's this?"

"Just open it," he told her, grinning. She rolled her eyes playfully and ripped off the coverings: it was a copy of his favourite novel, _Gone With the Wind._

"Oh!" she said in surprise, laughing. She flipped open the cover of the hardback, and saw an inscription:

_For Lily, who will always be a Scarlett woman... James._

She looked up at him, grinning almost shyly. "Thanks," she said softly, and he inclined his head, looking pleased with himself. She grabbed at the package nearest her, small and wrapped in thick silver paper. "Your turn."

He laughed, shaking the box slightly. "Wonder what this could be?" he asked dramatically, as Christophé, Petunia and Vernon looked on somewhat interestedly. He unwrapped it much more carefully than she had the book, and pulled the watch from its cushioned box. "What a surprise!" said James, obviously trying very hard to hide his previous knowledge of Lily's gift from the others. She swallowed a grin.

"Try looking underneath," she suggested. He looked askance at her, then flipped the watch over, where **number** words were now delicately inscribed:

_JP - Forever Young, Forever Free - LE._

He smiled softly at her. "Wow... that's really nice, Lily... thanks." She couldn't help but blush a little under his praise, but her father's soft cough broke the increasingly self-conscious silence.

"Ah, Vernon," he said, passing his son-in-law a present, "Merry Christmas." Vernon unwrapped it quickly, obviously hoping to cash in, and held up the gift. It was a pair of knobbly-looking, mustard-yellow socks. Vernon eyed them with an obvious dissatisfaction. "One can never have enough socks," pointed out Christophé sensibly. Lily pressed a hand to her mouth to keep herself from laughing out loud as Vernon forced a smile.

"How true," he said, almost grimacing. "Thank you very much, Christophé." But her father was already passing him another gift, this time a voucher for Vernon and Petunia to spend a week in the French Alps, skiing. Lily almost had to suffocate herself again to hide her giggles at the thought of Vernon skiing, but the couple both looked delighted and far more pleased with this gift.

The passed around a few more gifts – James' hairpin for Lily, a book on muggle sports for James from her father, a set of kitchen knives for Petunia from James, a pair of Prada loafers for Christophé – before they retired for breakfast, but not before they took their gifts back to their rooms.

James walked along beside her, his arms almost as full as her own. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to get this many gifts, considering no one knew I was coming until 48 hours ago," he said, shaking his head and smiling. Lily laughed.

"What can I say? I love to shop – even for you," she stated, grinning. Aside from the watch, she'd managed to grab him a cashmere scarf, a couple of shirts, some loafers like Christophé's and even an Armani suit. "You never know when you might need to attend a muggle black-tie event, especially in this household."

He chuckled and opened her door for her, letting her pass through and unceremoniously tip her gifts onto her already-made bed. She picked up the Chanel, holding it against herself and observing her reflection in the mirror. "I really love this," she said, fingering the silk of the skirt. "I'll have to remember to tip Dad's stylist later." She laid it carefully over the other items, knowing that one of the maid's would hang it for her, and followed him into his room. He was, again, much more careful about placing his gifts onto his bed, even hanging the shirts she'd bought for him. Lily sat on the armchair and watched him as he did so. "I really like the Hugo Boss," she told him, gesturing to the grey shirt.

"Mmm," he said distractedly, placing another shirt, blue this time, behind the grey one. He finished his unpacking and straightened up, turning back to her. "Ready for breakfast, then?" he asked, and pulled her up without waiting for an answer.

They made their way down to the dining room, where Petunia, Vernon and Christophé were already seated. Breakfast was light, just some toast and pastries, as they would be having a rather extravagant lunch. Lily ate quickly, chatting happily with her father who was still ecstatic about the discovery of the wine. Vernon, attempting to join in, commented that his favourite variety of wine was most definitely white – or maybe red – it was a difficult choice, after all.

"James," said Christophé quickly, seizing on a different subject in order to avoid succumbing to laughter as Lily dived under the table on the pretence of retrieving her napkin. "Have you spoken to your father at all? Will he be joining us?"

James' expression sobered a little. "I don't think so," he said slowly; Lily, glancing at him, couldn't miss the bitterness in his eyes. "It's still pretty busy at the Ministry, what with all the-"

Petunia's head snapped up. "Ministry?" she repeated breathlessly, obviously thinking she'd tapped into a potential gossip source. "Your father works for the government?"

"Er – not exactly," said James uncomfortably. He glanced at Lily, obviously wondering how to dodge this particular bullet, but she could only stare blankly, quite unhelpfully. "He – er – he's sort of... a – er... consultant," he managed. Well, this was half true, thought Lily appraisingly, and she nodded along, which seemed to encourage him.

Petunia looked as though she had been denied a thorough treat. Lily, seeing the danger, finished her tea quickly and turned back to Christophé. "Well, James and I might just go... uh... out to see the... uh, thing-"

"Yes, yes, of course," Christophé nodded, quickly and discerningly. "Dinner will begin at eleven thirty, so just make sure you're back and ready by then. We have guests coming, remember."

Lily remembered unhappily their annual Christmas guests, Lord and Lady Middleton, who were an ever-present and always-tedious part of their holiday routine. The Middletons, whose estate had neighboured their previous home, were a thoroughly dull couple who seemed to adore both small game hunting and Petunia. For some reason she had never been able to fathom, they showed up every Christmas Day for lunch with the Evans', full of cheek-pinches and stories about their latest catch.

"I haven't forgotten," she grumbled, and stood, pulling James up with her. Lily had no idea what they would do, but anything would be better than chatting about drills and Mrs Figg from three doors down with her sister and brother-in-law.

"What do you want to do?" asked James as they climbed the stairs.

"No idea," said Lily honestly, glancing out the window distractedly – an idea occurred to her. She turned to him, grabbing his arm. "Let's go outside."

"Out there?" he said, raising her eyebrows and gesturing with his free hand. "Yeah, right. It looks like its freezing."

"God, you're a wuss, aren't you?" she stated, grinning. "Don't be a wimp. Put on your warmest clothes and meet me in the back hall in five."

Still shaking his head, he left. Lily wandered into her own room, pulling her Chanel ski suit, left over from last year's trip to Switzerland (at least now she could say she'd actually _been_), from her closet. A pair of snow boots completed the look and, after throwing her hair into a ponytail and pulling a knitted headband over her ears, she made her way down the stairs and through the winding corridors to the back hall.

James was already there, wearing a black snow suit of his own. At her surprised look, he stated defensively, "Muggles aren't the only ones who ski, you know." She laughed and motioned for him to follow her as they passed through the sun room and out onto the grounds.

A thick blanket of white snow had fallen during the night, leaving a very winter wonderland feel over the estate. Lily sighed happily; this was actually shaping up to be a rather good Christmas, after all. She trudged through the almost knee-deep powder, over to where a taller pile of snow had fallen. She smirked as an another idea came to mind. "Hey, James-"

_Wham!_ A snowball hit her in the stomach. "Hey!" she cried, spotting James crouched behind a fern tree, and grinning evilly at her. Another ball impacted with her shoulder. She glared at him and ran for cover behind the snow pile (which, handily, became a rather effective fort) and quickly went to make her own snow ball –

Another glob of snow hit her. Then another, and another, and another, almost barraging her. She chanced a quick glance up, over the makeshift fort, and saw that he had his wand out, flinging the balls magically in her direction.

"Unfair!" she shouted, standing up without thinking, her hands on her hips. Another ball caught her in the face.

"Hey, I didn't hear anything about rules!" he yelled back, though he ceased flinging more snow at her all the same.

Lily marched forward and prodded his shoulder. "You're going to pay for that," she promised.

"Chill out, Princess," he said, flashing her a quick grin, "it's just snow, it's not going to hurt anyone."

"Maybe not, but I _will_," she said sweetly, and he eyed her warily. "Now, seeing as you're all wand-happy, you're going to do me a favour."

"Can't this wait?" he said, with a groan. "Till, say, next week? When you can do it yourself?"

"Nope," she quipped. "See that pile of snow I was hiding behind? Well, you're going to make it into a slope."

James glanced at her, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What-" he began, but Lily let out a huff and attempted to snatch the wand from him. "No – don't – okay, fine, just let me do it!" he said quickly, and, twirling his wand baton-like, smoothed the pile into a longer, smoother slant.

"Now," continued Lily, getting into her stride, "take these-" she showed him the two pebbles lying flat in her palm "-and make them into round, inflatable tubes."His face showed confusion as he turned to her again, but Lily just rolled her eyes. "And don't even try to tell me you can't do it, McGonagall practically goes into raptures over your transfiguration abilities."

He grinned. "Glad you noticed."

Lily whacked him on the shoulder again.

James took the stones from her, placing them onto the snow-covered ground in front of them. She watched as he concentrated momentarily, before he waved his wand and, as he had before, wordlessly caused the pebbles to swell, changing their shape and texture. Two identical rubber tubes stood before them, both decorated in the Gryffindor house colours and emblazoned with a roaring lion.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist," he told her, smirking unashamedly.

She couldn't help smiling back, already grabbing the tube nearest her and scrambling up the side of the newly-formed slope. "Come on!" she called, feeling his eyes on her as she placed the tube in front of herself and, with a delighted yell, lay face forward onto it and pushed off, scooting down the slope.

Understanding dawned on his face. "Ah, tobogganing!" he said, catching on, and he raced after Lily as she made her way back to the top of the slope for a second time.

They spent the next few hours sledding, inventing new ways to slide down the slope (James, feeling particularly adventurous, even attempted to do so whilst performing a handstand on the tube) and clowning around in the snow. Lily's cheeked were flushed with the cold and with happiness, and James' wild hair stood on end, messier than ever. She'd just lobbed a snowball at him, catching him squarely on the back of the head, when she heard her name being called. Abigail, her maid, stood shivering at the back door they'd come through, calling for them to come inside; it was already past eleven, and their guests would be arriving momentarily.

"Oh, God!" cried Lily, but she couldn't help giggling. She hauled James up from where he was attempting his twenty-seventh snow angel, and the pair of them raced over to the door leading to the warm house. Abigail took their snow boots from them in an attempt to avoid spreading slush all through the house, and Lily and James hastened to make their way to their individual rooms. Lily glanced at her clock as she entered her bedroom: it was a quarter past eleven already, and _she didn't even have time to shower. _She hurriedly applied her makeup and curled the ends of her hair, moving over to her wardrobe. Feeling somewhat festive, she threw on a white mini shift dress with elbow length sleeves, fastening the interlocking doubles 'C' clip of a red leather belt over the top. Lily slipped her feet into her favourite, comfortable Louboutin black stiletto pumps; checking her appearance one last time, she hurried down the stairs and into the dining room.

Another Christmas tree had been placed here, she noticed, and the table, set for twelve, glistened with heavy silverware and crystal goblets. James looked up as she entered; he was wearing the pants from the Giorgio Armani suit she'd bought him, along with the grey Hugo Boss shirt, whilst on his left wrist glinted the Cartier watch. A slow spread across her face as she walked over to where he stood by the fire.

"Well, well," she said, raising an eyebrow lightly. "Don't you clean up nice?"

"And here I was, thinking the same thing about you," he said, eyes glittering with amusement. The doorbell sounded and her father's voice rang out from the front lobby; Lily turned at the sound, groaning.

"Lovely," she said, "here come my favourite Lord and Lady." As she faced him again, he reached a hand out and flicked her nose. Lily blinked.

"What-?" she started, but he just grinned innocently.

"You had snow on your nose," he claimed, shrugging.

"I did not," she protested, flicking him back with a giggle. "See how you like-"

"Lily!" called a very familiar voice. Suddenly, dread clenched at her stomach, overwhelming her; there were _twelve_ seats at the table...

Slowly, apprehensively, she turned.

Mr. Vance stood there, arms spread wide and smiling. "How are you, my dear? Oh, and this must be your friend, James," he said. As he reached forward and embraced her friendly, Lily's eyes flicked over his shoulder...

And there, standing together behind Mr. Vance, stood Travis and Emmeline.

Lily's inside positively shrivelled. Instinctively, she turned back to Mr. Vance, forcing a smile. "I'm great!" she told him, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, and dragged James forward. "Yes, this is James, James Potter. He's Head Boy with me at school." As the two exchanged pleasantries, Lily forced herself to remain calm. She hadn't spoken to Travis since... since... well, that night she refused to think about – and now he was _here_, in _her_ home, on _Christmas_, with _Emmeline_!

A distraction bounded over in the form of Jack, who hugged her round the middle. "Lily!" he cried, looking up at her.

She wished Travis would stop staring at her like that. "How are you, Jack?" she asked, through clenched teeth.

"So, so good," he gushed excitedly. "Guess what I got for Christmas! A new broomstick! It's the latest-"

He abruptly cut himself off as Lily shushed him, for at that moment, Petunia and Vernon had walked hand-in-hand into the dining room. Thankfully, their arrival broke Travis' steady gaze, as the newly-married couple shook hands and kissed the cheeks of the newly-engaged couple. Jack smiled secretively at her; the Vances, as long-time friends of the family, were all well-versed on Lily's 'Swiss boarding school'.

She managed to disentangle herself from Jack, who was already chatting happily with Christophé and his mother, and she turned back to James. Something like amusement glittered in his eyes. She scowled.

"It's not funny," she snapped, albeit quietly. The corners of his mouth twitched in disagreement. "What the hell am I supposed to do? I had no idea they were even-"

"Lily?" said a tentative voice behind her. _Oh, dear God_... she turned again, coming face to face with Travis Vance for the first time since September. "Er – how are you?"

She could hardly think; "fine," she said breathlessly. A rush of feelings was overwhelming her: jealousy, anger, embarrassment, affection. Emmeline smiled benignly at her from Travis' side; from their entwined fingers, Lily could make out a sparkling diamond ring of Emmeline's left hand. She swallowed. "How – how are you? Both of you," she added, wanting to seem unaffected by their intimacy. Well, she should be, shouldn't she? It wasn't like she even loved him anymore... was it? But as she looked up into his, she couldn't be sure: they were so blue and clear, so unlike James' dark ones... Suddenly, she remembered him, still standing beside her, and she hurriedly introduced them all.

"Ah, yes," said Travis, smiling as he shook James' hand. "David Potter's son, I take it?"

"Yes," said James shortly. Lily glanced at him, surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice, though it seemed neither Travis nor Emmeline noticed. What was his problem? It wasn't like he'd just walked into an _episode of the twilight zone_, after all. It must just be the immediate reference to his father, she realised; he had told her how he disliked the attention his last name brought him.

Emmeline now turned to Lily, smiling pleasantly. "Lily, that's a beautiful dress," she commented politely. "Where did you find it?"

Lily, still in shock, stared at the other girl momentarily; the question, in their current context, felt so out of place that she wondered if she had misheard. "Oh... it's – um – Gucci... I think..."

An uncomfortable silence settled upon them. Lily was contemplating an escape already, if not her Gallardo, then – at the very least – to the wine cellar. At that moment, however, Christophé called for them to take their places at the table.

Lily took her place her seat next to her father, James on her right, followed by Jack, Travis and Emmeline; Mr. Vance sat at the other end of the table, and to his right was Mrs. Vance. Petunia and Vernon, to Christophé's left, were already chatting away to Lord and Lady Middleton; Lily, surprised, had not even heard them come in. Four waiters appeared, placing plates of oak smoked salmon, with honey and mustard dressing, in front of them as Alfred came around with a bottle of wine. Christophé was telling the Vances of the wine Lily had traced for them, and took no notice as Alfred filled her glass, winking at her as he did so. Lily felt herself spirits life slightly... wine, at least, would help...

The first course was cleared quickly, and the second – creamy carrot and coriandor soup– arrived soon after. James ate quietly beside her, still seeming tense. She looked questioningly at him, but he merely shook his head and turned to Jack, asking about his new Nimbus 100. Lily rolled her eyes and turned to her father, the only other person present she could stomach talking to. He, however, was apparently ensconced in conversation with Petunia, Vernon and the Middletons, and Lily, having no desire to join in, remained quiet.

Somewhere between the third and fourth courses, Lily rather unwillingly caught Mrs. Vance's voice, as she spoke excitedly about the upcoming nuptials from the other end of the table.

"We're thinking March, aren't you, Emmeline dear? A spring wedding, it will be just beautiful, the _Daily Prophet_'s already expressed interest in featuring the photos in their wedding section-" Mrs. Vance was saying, not troubling to keep her voice down (although, thankfully, none of the representatives of the non-magical community seemed to notice her slip).

Lily excused herself and moved into the hallway, heading for the wine cellar. She may not be ripping the ring from Emmeline's scrawny finger, but she sure as hell wasn't going to sit around listening to them discuss their imminent wedding details. Descending via the wooden stairs into the cellar, glaring around at the dusty bottles of red, she was surprised to hear footsteps behind her only seconds later. Lily looked up to find Travis' concerned face looking back at her.

"Lily," he said, his voice soft, his eyes boring into hers. Thank God he hadn't called her Tiger-Lily; she already felt trapped as it was.

"Uh..." Her mind was blank, her breathing harsh, her expression almost fearful. Oh, dear God, what was _wrong_ with her? _Move! _She ordered herself. "So... uh... how – are you?"

"Fine," he said, almost distractedly. He was moving towards her; her mind was screaming for her to run, but her feet remained uncooperatively stuck to the ground.

"I've been worried about you, Lily," he confessed, now standing in front of her. "Our last – conversation – was... well, are you okay? Only-"

There was that pity again. "I'm fine," she snapped, anger surging through her. "I'm having a lovely Christmas, actually. Or, I was."

He smiled sadly at her. "Oh, Lily," he said, sighing quietly, "I had hoped you wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't what?" she scoffed. "Wouldn't make a fuss in front of _dear_ Emmeline? Well, don't worry," she told him coldly, "I'm not going to." She made to stalk off – she'd no idea where to – but his hand slipped out and caught her arm.

"Lily, wait." Slowly, she turned to face him again; she couldn't tear her eyes from his. "Lily," he said again, his voice softer now."I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you-"

Anger surged within her once more. "You should be!" she burst out. "You led me on, you made me believe you – that you..." She swallowed and her voice became altogether quieter. "You made me think that you cared about me."

Travis' eyes roamed her face. "Yes, I do care. How could I not? You're so full of life, and passion, and verve. But I never meant to lead you on so."

The words seemed to replay themselves, over and over, ringing in her ears. This was everything she had wanted to hear from him the night she'd poured her heart out to him beside the fireplace. But something about this felt wrong, and she couldn't deny it, no matter how much her heart was telling her to. "Why are you saying this?" she asked, her voice slow and cautious. She couldn't look at him, instead staring unseeingly at the door that led to the chilled room that held the whites. "Why are you telling me this now? Of all times?"

"I made a mistake," he told her, his eyes pleading. "I do love you, Lily, I always have – I love your vigour and your-"

"So you keep saying." Her mind was reeling, but one thought rose above the howling mishmash of the others. She frowned. "What about Emmeline, then?"

A flicker of pain passed over his face. "Well... I mean... I'm not-" He faltered, shook himself, and looking beseechingly at her again. "Oh, what does it matter? I've made a mistake, Lily, I should have told you I loved you before, but I was wrong... I didn't know then, didn't know I cared for you so..."

The earnest look in his eyes softened her cold expression, and Lily felt her guard drop slightly. Taking a deep breath, she laid a hand tentatively on his arm. Slowly, she raised her eyes to peer up at him from beneath her lashes. "Travis-"

Footsteps sounded again on the cellar stairs; James had appeared, quite suddenly, it seemed at the wine room's entrance. Lily jumped apart from Travis, reminded, as she did so, how she had stepped back from James only the night before. Her cheeks burned as she took in the uncomfortable look on Travis' face and the coldness in James' eyes.

"Lily?" said James. His expression was impassive, but his eyes seemed to flick towards Travis distrustfully. "I came to see what was taking so long. Are you alright?"

Her breathing was still ragged, and she forced herself to gulp down several deep breaths before replying. "Fine," she managed. "I'm just-" _Just what? _What the hell was she doing, after all? James' eyes burned within an intensity she couldn't name as he surveyed her.

"Lily-" he began again, but Travis' voice – much sharper than she had ever heard it before – interrupted him.

"Actually, Potter, Lily and I were discussing something, so if you don't mind..." Travis raised his eyebrow and inclined his head towards the door, an incongruous anger evident on his normally-passive face.

Lily frowned at his expression, somewhat shocked by the sharpness of his voice. "Travis," she started, but James broke in.

"Actually, Vance, I do mind," he said coolly, though his eyes flashed with a quiet loathing. "I wasn't aware you and Lily had anything to discuss, if your last... conversation-" he looked Travis up and down with something akin to disgust "-was any kind of indicator.

Travis snapped. "That is none of your concern, Potter, you insolent little-"

"That's enough." Lily's voice cracked across the room like a whip. She'd no idea who was more surprised at her words, Travis or James or herself. "You've no right to speak to him like that, Travis."

He looked at her in shock. "Lily," he said disbelievingly, "I-"

But she took a deep, steadying breath, raising her eyes to his. "No, Travis. I think that's enough for today. I'll..." Her mind, still swimming, couldn't make any sort of decision yet, and so she settled with telling him quietly, "I'll owl you later."

Travis, with one last nasty look at James, stalked up the stairs and out of the cellar. James raised an eyebrow; the coldness of his eyes was almost enough to make her flinch.

"Shall we?" he said simply. Thank God he hadn't said anything else. She nodded wordlessly, following him out of the cellar and back through the hall to the dining room. Travis was already seated next to Emmeline once more, his face slightly red still; he seemed to try and catch her eye as she took her seat beside Christophé again, but she ignored him, smiling at her father instead.

"Sorry about that," Lily said airily, James sitting down beside her, "I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom. Honestly, Dad, one can get so easily lost in this house that I don't know why you ever bought it!" The others tittered; Petunia glanced at her witheringly. The fourth course arrived thereafter, leaving her to resume her silent contemplation without interruption. At one stage, she lifted her head to see Travis and Emmeline talking quietly, Emmeline still smiling up at him with obvious affection. Travis didn't seem the least bit guilty, nor shamefaced, as he bent slightly to whisper in his fiancée's ear. What a coward, she realised, as she watched them: only minutes after he had told Lily he loved her, Travis sat here – at her own dining table – and looked his bride-to-be in the eyes. Lily shook her head almost imperceptibly; how could she have believed his words in the cellar, even for a second?

Desert followed quickly. Shortly thereafter, Travis and Emmeline excused themselves.

"We're going to my parents' house for dinner," Emmeline told them all, "although I've no idea how we'll manage it – I'm so full! Thank you, Mr. Evans, that was just delicious."

"Not at all, Emmeline," smiled Christophé, in his gracious way, "it was lovely to see you again. Please give your parents my regards."

Finally, after wishing them all merry Christmas and making their goodbyes, the happy couple left. Lily sighed audibly with relief, and a fleeting smirk passed over James' lips for the first time since she'd left for the cellar. Tea and coffee were now being served, but Lily excused herself. She wandered slowly up the stairs, down the corridor and into her room, collapsing onto her bed (where, thankfully, her gifts had indeed been cleared from and put away).

It felt like every certainty, everything she knew – or thought she'd known – had been swept out from under her. Travis had told her he loved her... but he didn't seem to have any inclination of leaving Emmeline... James' face, so cold and resentful, when he'd walked in on them...

And then there was her own reaction, perhaps most confusing of all. Travis had told her everything she'd wanted to hear since the start of the summer, spoken those three words she longed to hear more than any other... and yet... There had been no flutter in her stomach, no rapid beating of her heart, when he'd said it. But then, she didn't really love him? Certainly not anymore, and maybe she never had for that matter... Lily sighed sadly. James had been right all along. She didn't love Travis, she never had, and she'd only wanted him because of the way he'd made her feel.

The affirmations he'd provided of his love for her, too, were incorrect: he didn't love her, he loved the way she'd made him feel, just as she loved this in him. He'd gone on and on about how he loved her _passion_ and her _verve_, but the truth was, he loved these things about her, and not Lily herself. He'd been right the first time: they were completely wrong for each other. It seemed that pre-wedding jitters – or perhaps insanity – had gotten the better of him... yes, that had to be it. Her eyes drooped with tiredness and stress as she yawned, her warm bed and full stomach enticing her into an afternoon nap. Next time, though, she thought as she nodded off, she'd be checking for evidence of the Imperius Curse.

* * *

The remaining week of their holidays passed quickly. Both Lily and James appeared to have decided to ignore the interaction with Travis in the cellar, in what seemed to be an unspoken truce. She felt too ashamed to have been sucked in by Travis' words to have any desire to talk about it with him, though, and for this reason, she was glad for the alleviation their unspoken settlement provided.

They spent their days lazing around the worm house, finishing off bits of homework and patrol rosters here and there, but mostly just relaxing. James seemed to be making himself right at home; he re-read _Gone With the Wind_ for what had to be the hundredth time by the sitting room fire (Lily felt a slight pang of guilt that she'd not yet opened the copy he'd given her); one morning, she'd even caught him pounding the treadmill in the gym.

"There is seriously something wrong with you," she'd said disgustedly, as she watched him run at an impressive speed, but he just grinned at her.

"When we go back to Hogwarts," he promised, "I'm taking you out running with me, one morning. Whether you like it or not!" But she only nodded; distracted by the way his t-shirt hugged his chest, how his hair fell into his eyes, the movement of his strong arms...

For Lily had, once again, found herself staring at James at odd intervals throughout the day, and seemingly without reason. He fascinated her, and it was these unthinking intervals that she found a reprieve from her constantly reeling mind.

She had started a letter to Travis numerous times, only to abandon her attempts each time; she simply had no idea what to say to him. Perhaps it was better to say nothing, and just let it alone? Somewhere around her ninth attempt, she sat up abruptly and angrily balled up the piece of parchment she had been composing her letter on, throwing it into the fire beside her. The flames flared momentarily, sending up little sparks that illuminated the slightly-dull afternoon light of the sitting room. James, in the armchair opposite, looked up, eyebrows raised.

"Everything okay?"

"Fine," she replied with a forced smile. He surveyed her a moment longer before reprieving her and returning to his novel.

Lily sighed, turning to the window to the left of where the Christmas tree stood still. Tomorrow – December 31st – would be her seventeenth birthday. She would be legally of age in the wizarding world. The significance of the event was, however, a little lost on her, at this juncture in her life: she could make neither heads nor tails of her emotions, her thoughts, nor of a certain two men in her life. Maybe being seventeen would help her made sense of it all, would bring about a maturity she'd so far been lacking?

She scoffed quietly to herself. _Yeah_, _right_, she thought. _Fat_ _chance_.

* * *

"To Lily, the beautiful seventeen year old!" called her father the next evening, as they gathered around the dining table. The clock behind them struck midnight. Lily grinned as they raised their glasses to her, not least because the expression Petunia pulled as she did so reminded her of an angry Grindylow.

They drank as one, the wine warming her as she gulped it down. Lily's good mood, the release of the wine, and the warmth of the room were combining to make her feel extremely relaxed. She could feel the magic whirling within her as she rested lazily in her chair; it was almost as though it knew that it could be released, and was screaming at her to let it do so. _It would be fun to give Petty a scare_... she grinned at the thought, but nevertheless she showed extraordinary self-discipline and decided against turning her sister's goblet into a blowfish. _Vernon, on the other hand... _Well, she'd always thought he would suit a nice little piggy tail...

Christophé rose, announcing that he was retiring for bed; he was leaving early for Paris the next morning on urgent business, and wanted to rest before he departed. He kissed his daughters' cheeks, wishing Lily happy birthday once more, and left for his bedroom. Petunia and Vernon (obviously not wanting to be in Lily's company for longer than was strictly required) followed soon after, leaving Lily and James alone at the dining table.

She yawned spectacularly and grinned, feeling very good indeed. "You know, this has actually been a nice birthday," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. "One would hope so," he commented, smiling wryly at her. Lily giggled to herself and pulled him up, an idea striking her.

"Come on," she said excitedly, digging a hand into the pocket of her jeans. "Let's go for a drive-"

"In the Gallardo? You've got to be kidding," he answered promptly.

"-or we'll go flying, then," she said, bumping into the chair next to her and bursting into fresh giggles. He laughed too, looking at her offhandedly.

"How much have you had to drink?" James asked her. "You'll probably fall off your broom, in this state." She almost tripped again, and clutched at his arm, still laughing. She looked up at him and grinned, tugging him into the kitchen after her.

"I'm going to do some magic," she told him loudly, pulling her wand from her back pocket, not troubling to keep her voice down; luckily, the kitchen was empty, and the chefs long gone. She aimed haphazardly at the nearest stovetop, flicking on the burners; the flames sparked and grew much higher than they normally would, dancing almost a foot above the grates. Lily ran her fingers across the now-purple flames, giggling as they licked their fingers; suddenly, however, they shrank and died. She whipped around to see James, wand out, smirking at her. Lily grinned evilly and twirled her wand, causing three paring knives to fling themselves at him; James deflected them easily, twisting on the tap and the sink and spraying it after her; she screamed with laughter and dodged it. Flicking her wrist, she sent two pots soaring after him, but he ducked; they banged into the steel fridge with _clang_ that reverberated throughout the room –

"What the hell is going on in here?" shouted a loud voice. Lily turned; Vernon stood at the other kitchen door, Petunia right behind. While a righteous anger had overtaken Vernon's puce face, her sister's face seemed to be frozen with fear. "What are you doing with those sticks?"

"Uh..." Lily's brain had melted. Her arm was still clutching the wand tightly in her hand, still pointing straight at James, who appeared similarly frozen.

"Nothing. Go back to bed," said James shortly; he appeared to have forgone courtesy in his shock at their discovery.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that, Potter, you little vagrant?" roared Vernon, moving in on James, who stared icily back.

"Don't call him that!" yelled Lily angrily, and without thinking, yelled "_Levicorpus!_" It wasn't even a verbal spell, she realised idly, as her brother-in-law was pulled from the ground by an invisible force, dangling three feet above the ground as though held there by an invisible force. His already-ruddy face intensified in colour as Petunia let out a scream and raced forwards.

"Oh, what have you done? You little _brat_!" she shrieked in Lily's direction, over Vernon's terrified yells. "You and your stupid wand!"

Lily gaped at her sister, who was kneeling on the cold kitchen floor and cradling Vernon's red face in her hands. "You – you _know_?" she said, in utter disbelief.

"Of course I know," snapped Petunia. She was angrier than Lily had ever seen her; even Vernon ceased his panicked shouting to listen. "How could I not? You thought you were so _clever_, not telling me, but I knew all along where you kept your spellbooks, where you went to school... I knew what you were! A _freak!_"

From the other side of the kitchen, she heard James draw a sharp intake of breath. "She is _not_-" he began angrily, but Petunia cut across him.

"Of course she is!" screamed her sister. "You _both_ are! With your spells and your wands and your potions..." Eleven years of pent-up rage seemed to be expelling its way out of her. "And even worse than that – for the past decade, you didn't even _once _try and tell me about this, the most important thing in your life! I'm your sister, Lily! Your _sister_! But you didn't – you never... I wasn't to be trusted, no, you always had to keep me on the outer, you and Father!"

And finally Lily understood. Shame ripped through her as she realised the hurt Petunia must have feel in not being included in Lily's secret, but she was still in shock and dazed by the wine; her reply was slow and stilted. "Petunia," she said gaspingly, struggling to get the words out, "I'm so – I never meant-"

"It's too late, Lily!" Petunia's eyes narrowed in hurt and fury. "Just get Vernon down. _Now_."

Lily obliged; Vernon fell to the floor, his own yells flaring up again, and for the first time since she'd cursed, Lily listened to what he was saying. "Petunia! What the hell is going on? I was – I was-" He motioned to the ceiling, gaping wordlessly, his face still a charming shade of magenta. "What _is_ she?" he snarled, in Lily's direction.

"_Lily_," said James, sounding furious as he glared at her brother-in-law, "is a witch, and a very powerful one at that!"

"Enough!" screamed Petunia, "Don't you say another word, you freaky little-"

"What is going on here?" Christophé had appeared in the doorway, confusion written across his tired face.

"We're leaving," said Petunia, still breathing heavily. "Right now." She hauled Vernon to his feet – a not unimpressive task – and started towards the door.

"Dad," cried Lily desperately, "Petunia knows, she's known for years, she knows I'm a witch-!"

Understanding and despondency overcame her father's face. "Is this true?" he asked Petunia quietly.

"Of course I know," she snapped again. "And I refuse to spend another second underneath this roof with that freak." Petunia sent a searing glance in Lily's direction, still hauling an astounded Vernon away from the kitchen.

A strange anger overcame her father's face. "Petunia Margaret Evans!" he boomed, in a tone Lily had never heard him use before. "You will _not_ call your sister by that name! She was only doing what she thought was best for you – protecting you – we both were!"

But Petunia simply squared her shoulders and glared at their father. "I will call her by whatever name I please," she stated, voice shaking with anger, "and so long as she still lives under this roof, we will not be returning." And with that, she swept from the kitchen, dragging Vernon along with her.

Tears streamed down Lily's face as she lay awake in bed half an hour later, listening to the front door slam shut and a car pull out from the driveway. The consequences of her actions were far greater than she'd ever imagined they could be: despite Lily and Petunia having never been especially close, their relationship now seemed to be beyond repair by any means. How could she have been so stupid as to think her sister would never find out her secret? Why had she not wanted to share that part of her life to begin with?

She could hear, very faintly, Christophé's feet pacing the sitting room floor; her heavy heart was quite obviously being shared. The creaking of the floorboards was her lullaby that night, and though it took a long time for her to fall asleep, her father's feet paced still.

* * *

They awoke early on New Year's Day. Christophé wished them a hasty goodbye as he hurried out the door, kissing the top of Lily's head absentmindedly as he shrugged on his suit jacket, Alfred handing him his briefcase as he did so. Neither he nor Lily mentioned Petunia, for which she was glad; each felt they were to blame for the now ostensibly-irreparable rift between the two Evans' daughters.

After a quick breakfast, Damien dropped them at the Ministry ("Thank God," James had muttered when he'd seen the limousine, and not the Gallardo, waiting in the driveway) where Lily, who had never been to the wizarding government's headquarters before, was entranced by the golden fountain of the atrium, although not so much by the dank alleyway in which the visitor's entrance was found in. Mr. Potter had arranged for a Portkey to deliver them right to their dormitories in Hogwarts, and Lily collapsed onto the familiar couches gratefully.

"Ugh," she said with a groan, "you have no idea how nice it is to be away from dear _Petty._"

"Actually," countered James, smirking, "I'm pretty sure I do."

"Yes, I suppose you do, now," she conceded, swinging her leg up onto the armrest. The fire was, as always, already crackling merrily in the grate. "So now I get complain about her as often as I like, right?"

"Please _don't_," he groaned, though he laughed too.

The day passed quickly. Lily finished her Potions essay; James went over a few Transfiguration spells. After lunch (delivered to them, very kindly, by Blonky and three other house elves), Sirius and Remus dropped by; it felt odd, somehow, to no longer have James to herself. The other boys stayed until sundown, amusing themselves with games of Exploding Snap and Wizarding Chess as Lily watched on idly. Neither James nor Lily felt like dinner, however, and the other two left for the Great Hall unaccompanied. A sense of comfort and ease came over her as she sat alone with James once more.

"Well," said Lily, smiling wryly, "it certainly seems as though they missed you. Didn't wait long to come and see their favourite Head Boy, didn't they?"

He cocked an eyebrow, eyes glittering. "Why's that? Jealous, are we, Lily?"

If their unexpected holiday had taught her anything, it was how much she liked being on the end of the teasing; it was time, she decided, to turn the tables. "Me, jealous? Never," she said, smirking. She rose from her chair, taking slow, deliberate steps over to where he sat opposite her. "I just really needed..." She stepped in front of him, his eyes raking her in... "To tell you something..." She slipped a knee either of side of his, straddling him, as his arm slipped automatically around her back. She leant down and brushed his lips against his, "...in private."

She kissed him; the first time she'd kissed him since Christmas. His lips matched hers exactly, searing her with their touch. Lily's hands reached up his chest, around his neck, her fingers in his gorgeous hair –

Suddenly, he had pulled away, and her eyes sprang open.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, the words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. For the first time she could remember, he seemed to deliberately try and avoid her gaze.

"Nothing," he said, moving beneath her; she could take a hint, and stood up, watching disbelievingly as he followed suit. "I'm just tired." He smiled apologetically. "I think I might just go to bed, okay? Sorry – I mean, it's nothing personal, I just..." He hesitated, and settled with kissing the top of her head. "But tomorrow morning, when I'm not so tired, I'll take you running with me, okay? All right. G'night."

And then he left.

Lily stared, astounded, at his closed bedroom. Had he just _rejected_ her? No, it wasn't possible, not when she was practically throwing herself at him – not when there weren't even any strings attached, as there weren't now. He probably was _just tired_, she realised; there was no other explanation. Still slightly perturbed, she shook her head in the direction of his door one last time before heading for her own room, quite alone.

* * *

Lily's breath was foggy in the freezing morning air. She pulled her knitted headband closer over her ears and, shivering, glared at him. "I still can't believe I let you talk me into this."

He shook his head and grinned, pulling her along as they made their way out to the Quidditch pitch; the sun was still struggling over the horizon and the sky was purple-pink with the first light of the day. Here, at Hogwarts, the Christmas snowfall had faded quickly, but Lily and James hadn't seen a single other student on their journey through the castle. "You'll get over it," he said, stubbornly dragging her along with him. He unlocked the gates with his wand and they made their way onto the pitch, the dewy grass making her trainers slick.

Reaching the side of the pitch nearest the changing rooms, they came to a stop, James throwing the two water bottles he'd brought for them onto the ground. His grey sweatshirt followed. Lily thought he was crazy – she was still sure the next ice age would be approaching within the next five minutes – but she wasn't complaining: this way, at least, she copped a better look at his physique... maybe he was right about all this early-morning exercise, after all. He followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow, but she just smiled slyly at him and he grinned.

"All right," he said, evidently back on task. "We're just going to take it slow, maybe do a couple of laps around the pitch first-"

"_First?_" she said, looking perturbed.

"Don't worry, Princess, I'll take it easy on you," he said, grinning. "Wouldn't want you to ruin your hair, after all." She slugged him in the shoulder and he pushed her back, laughing. "Come on, then, what are you waiting for?" And he took off at (what was for him) a slow jog.

He was already miles in front of her by the time she was able to gain sufficient motor control and start running after him. The cold air stung her skin as she slowly caught up with him.

"Are we done yet?" she groaned, but he just shook his head and kept on jogging, leaving her no choice but to continue along beside him.

She was surprised to find herself so out of breath when, after three laps, they came back to where James' sweatshirt marked their original start point. Lily sucked in some deep breaths as James began stretching; God, she really was unfit. She took a gulp from her water bottle and looked over at him, surprised to see him stretched out in a very odd pose.

"What?" he said defensively to her raised eyebrows, not moving his stretched-out right arm, nor the left one, which was holding up his leg. "It's muggle yoga, and it's very good for balance, you know, which helps when you're stuck on a broom for hours at a time." Lily couldn't help letting out a giggle, to which he frowned. "See if you can do it, then!"

"Fine, I will," she stated, accepting his challenge, before she paused. "Uh... how-?"

He sighed dramatically and walked over to her, pushing and prodding her limbs into place, though he grinned. "And move this arm, here," he said, extending it. She suddenly became aware of how close they were standing; he was frowning at her rather awkwardly bent left leg in concentration, his chest in line with her eyes. God, he looked so cute like that. A slow smile stretched across her lips as she stared at his mouth – his lips really were so soft – and she flicked her sparkling eyes up to his, peering up at him through her lashes in the most seductive way she knew how. She'd never kissed him in public before – well, only when she was very, very drunk – but right now, the idea seemed thrilling, almost exhilarating.

"How's that?" he asked, still prodding at her right shoulder.

Her tongue almost tripped over her one-word answer. "Perfect," she purred, dropping her leg and straightening back up. Her fingers played in the hair that was curled over her shoulder. His eyes met hers; he was so close. Why didn't he kiss her?

"But you just-" he began, looking confused; Lily laughed again, her eyes never leaving his. Understanding seemed to wash his face and he took a step backwards suddenly. His voice was quiet. "What are you doing?"

What was wrong now? "What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"Well," he said, his voice slow, but the bemused expression was fading from his face; his eyes glittered dangerously. "From here, it looks as if you're trying to get me to kiss you."

Her own mouth fell open with shock, not least at his amusement at the very idea. "I don't want you to kiss me," she lied furiously.

"Really?" he asked. His tone was amused. As usual. "Because I would have said otherwise, if all that hair-twirling and looking up at me from under your eyelashes means what I think it does."

This time, _she_ almost fell over in shock. Denial and anger, her self-defence mechanisms, kicked in. "As if!" she said loudly, stepping back from his so fast she almost banged into the stands. "I was just stretching, you dolt-" '_Dolt'? Really? _"-and if you can't see that, you're even more desperate than I thought you were." She turned and made to leave, but his voice – carried easily by the still morning air – chased after her.

"Really, Lily? _I'm_ the desperate one? Or is it just because you've gotten what you wanted from Travis and gotten bored that you're looking for a new challenge?"

She whirled around. "What on earth are you-"

"I told you," declared James, dark eyes staring her down, "I told you, you only wanted him because you couldn't have him, and now that he's saying he loves you, you've realised you never even loved him in the first place. Isn't that right?"

Lily could hardly believe her ears; suddenly, she was there again, beside the fire in the Gryffindor common room, and throwing vases at James. She wished she had one _now_ to hurl at his stupid, smirking head. But she couldn't answer him, because he was right, and she knew it. She opened her mouth to reply furiously but shut it again when nothing came out.

His expression was cold. "You don't like me, Lily, you just want me because you know I'm the only person who sees right through you. Making me love you would be like proving you aren't everything you and I both know you are..." He paused, shaking his head. "Thank Merlin," he said quietly, "thank Merlin I'm not fool enough, like the rest of those idiots, to fall for your act."

With one last searing, disgusted glare, he left, walking across the pitch and out the gate. A lump burned her throat, but Lily waited until she could no longer see his messy black hair before she gave in and started to cry.

Sobs wracked and heaved at her body as she sank onto the grass, the sun now rising in earnest. _Oh, dear God_, she thought distraughtly, tears streaming down her face as her heart burst.

_I'm in love with James Potter._


	5. Make or Break

**Make or Break**

* * *

"Oh – no – stop it – don't _fall_!" shriek-whispered Lily. The book tottered and slipped from the desk, landing with an almighty crash onto the metal waste basket beside the desk.

Lily swore loudly and froze; holding her breath, she listened for any sound or even hint of movement around her. A moment passed and, as she could hear no footsteps or angered voices, she sighed with relief, tiptoed closer to the desk and resumed her search of James' bedroom.

She had no idea what she was even looking for: a clue, perhaps; some sort of explanation as to why he had flown so completely and totally off the handle at her the other morning… or maybe, just maybe, _something_ that would let her know just how he felt about her…

She sighed again. This being in love thing really sucked. Flicking glumly through the stack of papers, books and half-empty bottles of ink on James' desk, she thought despairingly of their last conversation one more and cringed. Definitely not her finest moment. James hadn't spoken to her, not one word, since that morning – now almost a week ago. And so, early that Sunday morning, a very desperate Lily Evans had resorted to the one idea she had remaining: to spy on him.

Unfortunately, though, James' desk was as blank as his expression, when it came to Lily being able to deduce anything from it. There was nothing here, save a few Potions texts, some scrap pieces of parchment dotted with the odd rune translation and a half-molted quill. Lily glared around the room frustratedly, as though expecting the answers to her questions to reveal themselves from behind the curtains. What was she doing here, anyway? It was ridiculous to expect to find anything; and besides, hadn't James himself told her plainly enough he wanted nothing to do with her? She hated him, could hardly stand the sight of him, and yet she wanted nothing more than to snog him senseless before taking them both hostage in either of their rooms for at _least_ a couple of days. Her gazed returned to his bed, this time filled with longing. She shook herself and attempted to resume her search once more, but it was hopeless: there was nothing here, not under the bed, in his bedside table drawers, not even between the mattresses.

Then, as though drawn there, her eyes happened upon his closet. Its door was slightly ajar, almost like it was inviting her in… slowly, tentatively, she stepped cautiously towards the door and, taking a deep breath, pulled it open.

Jackets, shirts, pants and robes hung on its racks, as neat as her own clothes; shoes lined the racks to her left. Lily could see the suit she'd bought him for Christmas hanging at the far back. She began to hunt around – a scrap of paper with her name, maybe, or something – but she knew straight away the search would be fruitless still, even inside the closet. Resigned to her unrequited, love-struck, miserable fate, she took one last glance around the room, her hand already pushing on the door –

Wait a second. What was that? A glint from the very back of the closet, atop the last set of drawers, caught her eye. Lily's breath caught in her throat as she hastened for it. Reaching it, she felt her heart give a painful pang: it was the Cartier watch she'd bought him, the inscription glinting in the cupboard's soft as she picked it up. She hadn't even noticed he'd not been wearing it. The silvery cloth that it had been sitting upon drew her attention. It was almost like liquid to the touch, she realized, running her fingers over it; she'd thought it must have been acting simply as a perch for the watch, but now, picking it up, Lily realized it was much too large. It seemed to be some sort of cloak, although she had no idea what kind; it was too light to provide much warmth, and she highly doubted James was the type to wear such flamboyant capes to parties and the like. It really was gorgeous, though, and she watched interestedly as it rippled slightly as she lifted it. Lily swung it up and around, over her shoulders, and stepping back (almost stumbling into the shelving behind her), she looked over her shoulder in the mirror –

- and let out a scream worthy of an Oscar.

"What the f-!" she shrieked, then gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Once again, she froze, listening intently, but caught sight of herself again in the mirror; Lily just managed to stop herself screaming again, though it was a close call.

For, in the mirror, Lily's reflection stared back at her in the most amazing way: from her left shoulder to her waist and downwards, where she could feel (but not see) the cloak had slipped to, she was completely invisible.

Once she had calmed herself sufficiently, Lily realized exactly what had happened. James was obviously in possession of an Invisibility Cloak, an immensely powerful magic object. She herself had never seen (quite obviously) and had only very rarely even heard of these Cloaks before; Lily had thought they were simply the stuff of magical myths and legends. But now, standing here, in James Potter's closet and with half her body having disappeared before her very eyes, she could hardly deny their existence any more.

She didn't know why she was so surprised: if anyone was going to own an Invisibility Cloak, it would be James Potter, subtle troublemaker and wizarding royalty. And all those times he'd appeared from nowhere, _and_ that time he'd disappeared during Ally's interrogation… Cautiously, she pulled the Cloak up to cover her head, and uttered a small gasp as her entire reflection vanished. Hidden beneath the Cloak, a smile spread slowly over her face. Oh, the fun she could have with this… provided James never found out, of course – this was it, this was her perfect way to find out how he felt about her! Using his secret weapon against caused her stomach to squirm a little with exhilaration and guilt; he'd forgive her, of course, once she'd figured out how to get him to talk to her long enough for her to apologise, and for him to forgive her, and to fall in love with her, and fall into bed with her for days on end…

Buoyed with her own brilliance, Lily – still cloaked and entirely indiscernible – left the closet quickly, swept past his bed and through the door to the kitchen, already halfway across the common room –

Footsteps sounded on the other side of the portrait hole, and a gruff voice spat out the password.

Lily froze; she definitely hadn't imagined that. The portrait hole swung open and her instincts took over: not used to the Cloak, she ducked behind the nearest sofa, crouching down. She could hear their footsteps approaching, and their indistinct chatter. A perilous thought occurred to her: this was James' cloak, obviously he knew it a lot better than her; could he see through it somehow, or did he have some device that allowed him to do so? Christ, she'd not thought this through. Two inhabitants swung themselves into the armchairs nearest the fire, and she recognized their voices instantly – it was Remus and Sirius.

"Where's James?" asked Remus, looking around. "I thought he was meeting us here?"

"Must be running late," said Sirius unconcernedly. "Hey, you reckon they've got any of those éclairs the house elves always give us here? I'm starving…"

"Nah, I doubt it, James said they just have basic stuff here," answered Remus. From her position on the other side of his lounge chair, she could just see his sandy-haired head tip back to peer over at the kitchen. "Lily mustn't be here, either. What's been up with her lately, anyway? She's been really quiet since the end of Christmas break."

"I dunno," she heard Sirius say. His voice was still undaunted and gruff. "James didn't say anything to you about their holidays, did he?"

"Not really," admitted Remus. "But then, he hasn't told me much about anything since… well – you know."

"Yeah." Sirius' reply was short. Lily tried to keep her breathing quiet in the hesitant silence that followed. After a minute or two, though, she heard Remus speak again:

"I guess it's just James' way, you know?" he said, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand. "He's never been all that –open – I guess…" He sounded uncomfortable, and she could hear Sirius shift in his seat.

"Yeah," said Sirius again. "It can't have been easy, getting through Christmas without his mum, for the first time. And being at Lily's like that, and the way he feels about her…"

Lily could feel her ears perk up at his words, almost like a dog; she became absolutely still, hardly daring to breath. _Go on_, she urged him silently, _say something more…_

She heard Remus laugh quietly. "I guess it would be hard, living with her and then having Christmas together… meeting her family and everything… It wouldn't really be helped by the fact that he's practically been in love with her since third year-"

Lily gasped; she couldn't help it – but at that moment the portrait hole door banged open with surprising force, disguising her sudden intake of breath and distracting the two boys. She chanced a glance over the chair and past Remus' shoulder, still covered in the Cloak, and saw James striding into the common room, his expression uncharacteristically telling and angry.

"Hey, mate," said Sirius, looking a little surprised at their friend's sudden entrance, "what took so long? Are we still heading down to the-"

"I'll meet you guys down there," James interrupted, shoving a piece of parchment roughly into his back pocket. "I just need to sort something out first."

She saw Remus and Sirius exchange a quick, confused glance, but neither of them voiced their bemusement at James' tone. "Alright, Prongs," agreed Sirius, "we'll meet you in the Entrance Hall in five."

James nodded, not looking at either of them, but glaring at the fire place instead. Lily watched the others leave quickly, and she had hardly heard the door click shut again when James strode forward and, in one fluid motion, had ripped the Cloak from her static figure.

His snarling face didn't register with her shocked brain. "How – how did you…" she stammered, eyes wide, "can you _see_ through the Cloak?"

"Don't be stupid," he snarled. "Of course I can't, no one can. The naked eye can't see through Invisibility Cloaks. Especially not this Cloak."

"Why? What do you mean, not this one?" She asked, confused. "Is there some sort of, like, level of quality or power or something with Invisibility Cloaks?"

He merely shook his, looking disbelieving but angrier still at her. "What the hell are you doing, Lily?"

Excuses flooded her brain, each more pathetic than the last. Realizing he would accept nothing but the truth, she took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his. "I just – I wanted… James, I have to know," she said earnestly, "do you – how do you feel – about… about me?"

His eyes narrowed at her with distrust, and she rushed on.

"Because – well – the truth is… I love you," she told him. Lily's breath caught in her throat: excitement, fear, nausea, anticipation and terror swirled in her stomach and her brain. She could hardly remember to breathe as he said nothing, clearly hesitating to answer her declaration. Then –

"No," she heard him say, his voice quiet. He wasn't looking at her, but at the Cloak.

"'No?'" she repeated, heart in her throat. "What do you mean, no? I tell you I'm in love with you, James, and all you can say-"

Her words died as he turned to look at her, his eyes blacker and his face wearier than she'd ever seen him before. "No," he said again. His voice was louder this time, and unyielding. "You don't love me, Lily. It's just like Travis all over again, isn't it? You only want me because you know you can't have me."

"I don't know that," she said immediately, her tone defiant. "I never really loved Travis, you're right, you know I didn't," she went on; too late, she realized this confession was hardly helping and the muscles in his jaw clenched. "But this isn't the same! I love you, I do, only I was too stupid – and too proud – to realize it… and then at Christmas, I thought you felt…" But he was barely listening to her, continuing to shake his head, and she grew further frustrated and her protests even more garbled. Why wasn't he listening to her, understanding her, reciprocating her assertions? She had to make him understand. "James, listen to me! I love you, I really do-"

"No you _don't_!" he burst out. The look in his eyes sent an involuntary chill down her spine as he glared at her, her lungs so squeezed with emotion she could barely breathe. "You think you can just decide that _this_ is how you suddenly feel and that now everything will be lovely and perfect and okay? It doesn't work like that, Lily! Not when up until five seconds ago you were eternally pledging yourself to Travis-"

"No, no, don't you see? I never really loved Travis, I never said anything when he was talking like that at Christmas, but I only realized it when you told me how stupid I was being – you were right, you were always right, Travis and I are complete opposites – not like you and I! James… I…" She was feeling desperate now; the angry and sceptical look on his face only worsened as she rambled on. "You… James… you were the only one who ever saw me for who I really am-"

He snorted. "In your case, Lily, that's not a good thing."

His words drove an icy spike into her heart; tears spilled over onto her reddened cheeks, but she blinked them away furiously.

"James – _please_-"

But he was shaking his head, not even looking at her, already walking away. In her desperate and heartbroken state, all rationality, all thoughts of pride and self-respect had fled; she went after his retreating figure, her blurred vision causing her to knock into couches and shelves – blows she hardly felt.

"James!" she tried one last time, and to her immense astonishment, he turned to face her once more, his eyes vacant and his hand already on the portrait-hole door.

His dark features seem to swim before her, and her desperation reached its peak. "Do – do Scarlett and Rhett..." Her frantic mind was grasping at straws, her voice almost breathless with pleading. "Do they get a happy ending?"

Her words were childish, infantile, and their immaturity caused a flicker of indisputable resentment to pass over his face. He looked down at her derisively, his voice cold and cutting.

"No," he said frankly. "They don't."

And he walked away.

* * *

"Lily, seriously, what's wrong? You've been jumpy all morning, you hardly touched your breakfast, and you haven't talked about anything other than school stuff since classes began again." Ally frowned at her over the library desk. "So, unless you've switched bodies with Hestia Jones, something is not adding up."

Lily felt herself hesitate and sigh. Telling Ally would mean a week of guilt-trips and the silent treatment, but really, wasn't that what James had already put her through? She chewed her lip, still unsure, but suddenly the urge to spill the secrets of her heavy heart overwhelmed her; before she knew it, she was telling her best friend everything, her words rushing out and tripping over each other in their haste to be heard.

Ally's expression, at first shocked, grew slowly darker as Lily detailed the drunken escapades as Varco's, their strange intimacy after Mrs. Potter's death and – with cheeks reddening in shame – the morning Ally had caught them out. Her friend, of course, looked simply mutinous at this, and Lily rushed on, eager to move away from that particular misadventure. She detailed their Christmas: how Travis had accosted her in the wine cellar, her growing relationship and ease with James, the fight with Petunia and that horrible, horrifying moment down by the Quidditch pitch. Then, with a heart so heavy she could barely get the words out, she told Ally in a whisper about their last conversation.

"I guess I'm just not very good at telling people I love them," she sighed glumly, in finish. "Or, at least, I never seem to garner the desired reaction."

Silence fell between them, awkward and deafening. Slowly, Lily raised her eyes to meet Ally's angry face, blanching with shame as she saw the rage settled there.

"Right," said Ally furiously. "I'm going to help you any way I can, because Merlin knows it'll be beneficial to both our mental healths if James just stops being a ponce and realizes he loves you. But when this is over, I'm not speaking to you for a week."

This was better than Lily could've hoped for, and certainly better than she had any right to expect. "Oh, Ally," she practically fawned, "thank you, thank you, so much! I've just been so _distraught_ all week – ever since he – oh, but I don't know what I can do, I was so sure he loved me too, but he just – he just-" She was in tears already, and Ally looked startled; Lily was not a crier, but right now, she was practically in hysterics.

"Lily – don't – Madam Pince-" she tried, but Lily was sobbing too hard to take any notice.

"-and Remus and Sirius, I _know_ they said he loved me, but you should have – have seen the way he – he – he looked at me, Ally! Like I was… _Marjorie Johnson_, or something, and then he just walked away, and he hasn't spoken to me all week and he thinks I'm a horrible person and now he _hates_ me-"

"He doesn't hate you," said Ally soothingly, rubbing her back as Lily flung herself dejectedly across the desk, her head in her arms, "but please, Lily, I mean it, Madam Pince is going to-"

"-and then-" _sob _"-he said-" _sob_ "-Rhett and Scarlett-" _sob_ "-don't even live _happily ever after_!"

"Who are Rhett and Scarlett?" asked Ally, bewildered, but Lily only continued to cry, engendering more than a few inquisitive glances, and after another few minutes of this wallowing, Ally's resolve broke.

"Oh, pull yourself together," she snapped, and Lily looked up in surprise so quickly that a piece of parchment stuck to her forehead. Ally frowned at Lily's widened red eyes. "Do you honestly think this is helping? Yes, it hurts that James rejected you, and yes, it seems like he'll never speak to you again-" Lily let out another wail "-_but_ going to pieces like this isn't going to get him back! _Think_, Lily! What can you do to show him that not only do you really love him, but make him realize that he loves you too?"

Lily could only look at her friend, astonished, for a few seconds, before Ally's words sunk in and she began to truly think about this. What _could _she do? Ordinarily, she'd strut around in her cutest little outfits, and send herself candy and flowers whilst flirting like there was no tomorrow, but James would see through any of these ideas in two seconds flat. She slumped, defeated, in her uncomfortable wooden library seat. "I've got nothing," she confessed, planting her head in her hand with a sigh.

Ally, next to her, sighed too. "Yeah," she agreed dejectedly, "me either."

* * *

The next few weeks passed slowly, and for all the world, as per usual. Homework stacked up; patrols were undertaken; and James spoke not a single word in Lily's direction.

Lily and James' silent rift went unnoticed amongst their friends, apart from Ally, who – after Lily's hysterical explanation of the state of affairs (literally) – flicked anxious glances between the two of them whenever she saw Lily and James together. Lily, however, was usually too busy struggling to breathe in these situations to notice. Sirius, Remus and Frank (Lily had made Ally swear not to tell her boyfriend) seemed to be oblivious, thank God. But she could no longer come within ten feet of James, not without feeling the tears spring to her eyes or her heart break once more.

This was, of course, not helped by the fact that they lived together.

Lily had seriously considered moving back to Gryffindor tower – anything to escape _him_. Because now there was no escape: they lived, studied, ate _and_ worked together. But the very idea of the probing questions likely to be thrown at her by Dumbledore and the rest of the girls in her old dorm was too much to bear, and grudgingly, she realized that – until graduation – she was stuck there.

The corridors were draughty with the late January wind. Lily pulled her robes tighter around her and quickened her stride, hurrying towards the library where she knew warmth awaited. She turned left at the corridor end, head down against the wind, until a loud _bang!_ sounded, and she raised her head in shock.

"What's going on?" she began, but her words were drowned out with a shout from the other end of the corridor.

"Get away from me, vermin!" spat a dark-haired girl. Lily instantly recognized Marjorie Johnson's face, contorted with rage, as she screamed at a boy in Slytherin robes. The Hufflepuff Prefect was flanked, as usual, by Bebe and Leslie, both of them looking on with sickening amusement. With a nasty laugh, she cried _"Diffindo!_" and the boy's shoulder bag split open, scattering quills, books and parchment everywhere, which were quickly drenched by exploding ink bottles.

Lily strode forward, fury writhing within her, towards the scene. As she came within ten feet, Marjorie opened her mouth to speak again.

"Death Eater wannabe," she spat at him, a feral look on her face.

Lily found her voice again. "Hey!" she yelled, stepping in between Marjorie and the boy. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Marjorie, though she looked shocked at Lily's sudden appearance, recovered and rolled her eyes impatiently. "Get lost, Evans," she said, glaring at her. "We're not doing anything-"

"Detention, Marjorie, and fifty points from your house," Lily declared furiously. If there was one thing she would not tolerate, it was such gratuitous cruelty. She folded her arms over her chest resolutely. "And twenty each for your mini-me's."

Marjorie and her doppelgangers looked at her in outrage and horror. "You can't do that!" she exploded, shocked.

"Watch me," she said coolly, though her eyes burned. "And once Professor Sprout hears about this, I'm sure she'll be backing me up. Honestly, Marjorie, how did _you_ ever become a Hufflepuff? Did you slip the Sorting Hat Firewhisky, or something?"

Marjorie's hand, still clenched around her short hawthorn wand, sprang up, but Lily disarmed her calmly before the other girl's wand was even trained on her. Lily laughed softly but bitterly.

"How brave," she said quietly, "to take on another younger, wandless student, when it's three to one? Seems like you've been taking tips from Voldemort-"

Marjorie looked outraged at the insinuation. "I'm not the one who's groveling to the Death Eaters! It's all those conniving Slytherins-"

"You think you're any better, Marjorie, because you do the exact opposite? Picking on a student just because they're from a house you distrust?" Lily's lip was curled in disgust. "A person's background doesn't make them who they are; it's their choices that do that… and it looks like you've made some pretty bad ones." Her eyes ranged over Bebe and Leslie's disgruntled faces, Marjorie's furious expression and the clutter around them. She looked back to the other Prefect and sneered disgustedly. "Get out of my sight."

Marjorie sent one last rage-filled glare in Lily's direction before sloping off towards the nearest staircase, friends in tow. Lily followed their path with her eyes until she could no longer see them, then turned for the first time back to the Slytherin boy standing behind her.

He was watery-eyed and short – she'd thought he was much younger, from a distance – but she recognized him as the sixth year Slytherin Prefect. He looked tentatively at her as though expecting retribution, before relief flickered visibly over his reddened expression as she smiled kindly, and genuinely, at him.

"Are you okay?"

"I – I'm fine," he stammered, still looking a little shocked and shamefaced. "I guess I'm just a little embarrassed."

She smiled bracingly. "It's not your fault. Marjorie's just a nasty cow who thinks she knows everything. Although, I guess I never thought she'd be that deliberately cruel to another student," she mused, frowning a little.

"It's not just her," said Peter suddenly; he looked as though he had been bottling up his emotions on the subject for some time, and was now spilling them as full to bursting. "Everyone's taking sides, and in Slytherin, a lot of people _are _starting to openly attest their support for Lord Voldemort and his stance-"

She stared at him, shocked by his admission; how could anyone – regardless of their thoughts on pure-bloods or muggle-borns – stand for the unabashed cruelty that went hand-in-hand with the Dark Wizard's regime? "You mean there's actually, _really_ a pro-Voldemort group at Hog-?" she began, but he was wound up and not listening.

"-and the rest of the school is no better; if you're a Slytherin right now, you're either a traitor or a liar." His round face looked frustrated and wan as he frowned. "I just…" He sighed. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Lily felt her emotions tug a little. "That really sucks," she conceded her expression saddened and sympathetic. "I guess since you're – uh… you're…"

"It's Peter," he told her, face shining up at her own earnestly. "Peter P-"

"Pettigrew," finished Lily, smiling lightly. "I remember. I was just trying to remember what class you're supposed to be in. Potions, right?" A week of shuffling the sixth-year class schedules around in order to fit in Apparition lessons had emblazoned their timetables in her mind.

He nodded and hesitated before his face broke into a tight, watery smile; it was the first time she could remember ever seeing such an expression on his face. "Thanks," he said finally, and shyly so. "That was really nice of you."

Lily shrugged a little, still smiling friendly at him. "I always thought all this house rivalry stuff was rubbish, myself. I mean, it's just like all that blood status drivel, isn't it?"

She was surprised to hear his affirmative reply. "Absolutely!" he agreed, enthusiastically. "I mean, every person here has at least some magical power, and if Victor Crabbe is anything to go by, blood status is certainly no indicator of talent. Or the ability to read."

Lily giggled. "Marjorie's in the same mould," she assured him. Her glance flickered around them, taking in the debris of his bag's contents, which were strewn around the corridor. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "we may not _technically_ be allowed to use magic in the corridors-" bloody James had won that one "-but if no one ever finds out, who says it even happened?" She winked at him and swept her wand over the area, watching jubilantly as the scattered items flew into his newly restored bag. She turned back to him, smiling lightly with success, and he returned the grin quickly as he stowed the bag over his rounded shoulder.

"Thanks," he said. "I guess there are some perks to being Head Girl, then-"

Footsteps sounded nearby, silencing him. James stood near the south-facing window, leaning effortlessly against a pillar. "If there are, Evans will find them," James agreed. He smirked and stood straight, walking over to where Lily and Peter stood. Lily stiffened and didn't look at him. Apparently they were back on last-name terms now. _Excellent_.

"Well – I was just – I mean, my bag broke, and Lily was just helping me fix-" squeaked Peter, and even in her agitated state (being this close to the man she declared her evidently-unrequited love for was making her physically ill) she appreciated the swiftness with which Peter had jumped to her defence. She smiled quietly at him, still not looking at James, and Peter's face reddened a little.

"Relax, Pettigrew," said James, amusement in evident in his voice – God, how she longed to slap him right now – and he waved his hand lazily. "No one's in any trouble. Isn't that right, Evans?"

She ignored him entirely, only stiffening a little more. Lily placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Come on, Peter, I better get you down to Potions," she told him. "Professor Slughorn will be wondering where you've gone." She turned her back on James, guiding Peter to do the same, and together they left him in the corridor, standing alone.

After they'd turned right to the hall from which she'd come, Peter looked at her with eyebrows raised; thankfully, though, he did not comment on the strained interactions they'd just left behind, for which Lily was immensely grateful.

"So, you think you'll be able to stop Professor Slughorn from giving me detention?" he asked, obviously keen to break the tense silence.

Lily broke into a reluctant smile. "I might be able to swing it," she told him drily, with a sly smile. He grinned. "How many kids are in your class anyway? It's NEWT level, right?"

Peter nodded. "Four Slytherins, including me, a couple Ravenclaws, and one each from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. I guess being cunning evidently makes for a better Potions maker."

Lily laughed at this. "It does seem to be a rather snake-dominated subject," she agreed, as they passed the doors to the Great Hall.

"You're good at Potions, though, aren't you?" he asked as he readjusted the heavy book bag on his shoulder. "Professor Slughorn's always going about your work in class."

"Really, I had no idea." She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. "You know," she went on suddenly; she'd never told anyone this – not even Ally – but it felt like she could trust Peter, and more importantly, that he wouldn't judge. "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, at first."

His watery eyes widened with surprise. "It did?"

"Yeah." Lily was surprised too, but more because she had never imagined she would tell anyone this – certainly not Remus and Sirius, who were too wrapped up in their interhouse Quidditch rivalry to entertain the thought of ever being friends with a Slytherin, and not Ally, who had hated the lot of them since first year, when Lucius Malfoy had levitated her into the lake for fun. "But I told it I didn't like snakes, and that I thought lions were prettier." She grinned at the memory, and Peter laughed too. "But," she went on, as they arrived at the dungeon door, "if you wouldn't mind – I haven't really ever-"

"I won't tell anyone," he assured her, smiling kindly as he knocked on the door. It swung open and Lily immediately heard the booming sound of Slughorn's voice across the classroom.

"Pattison! What time do you call this?" Peter blanched visibly and Lily, hiding a smirk, stepped around to the doorframe as Peter shuffled through. Slughorn's expression and tone changed instantly as he recognized her.

"Oho! Lily!" he cried delightedly, and every other head in the dungeon turned to look at her.

She smiled placidly. "Sorry, Professor," she said. "I was just brining Peter here back to class. You don't mind, do you, Professor Slughorn?"

He smiled benignly, first at her and then Peter, who looked shocked at this change in treatment. "Of course not!" boomed their whale-like teacher, "although – may I ask why-?"

"Oh," said Lily somberly, and she very theatrically raised her eyebrows at Slughorn, making sure her voice carried across the class. "I was on my way to the library when I came across Peter, who was single-handedly fighting off a cruel and senseless attack by no less than three older students!" She paused impressively for effect, watching as the other students gaped at Peter in disbelief and awe. "Well, he was doing just fine on his own, of course, but – as Head Girl – I couldn't let it go on, so I stopped the attack and punished the other students involved. There's no doubt, though, that Peter would have been fine without my assistance, Professor Slughorn, so there's no need to worry."

Slughorn, like the rest of the class, was goggling unattractively at Peter, who stood frozen beside her, his face bright red. Lily grinned and nudged him. Peter swallowed with some difficulty, then managed to squeak, "yeah, that's – that's right," before lapsing into self-conscious silence again.

Slughorn simply continued to look at Peter as though he'd never seen him before. Lily cleared her throat loudly, indicating for Peter to take his seat, which he did, gratefully. "Well then," said Lily brightly, and the professor finally turned back to look at her, "I trust you'll be able to find a fitting reward for Peter's actions, then, Professor?"

He nodded fervently, his walrus moustache bouncing everywhere. "Yes, yes, fifty points to Slytherin!" he proclaimed, and Lily grinned as Peter looked more astonished than ever. "Yes, Pritchard, you've certainly proved yourself worthy of our noble house today! Not unlike Lily here," he went on, with a chuckle. "Lily, my dear, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – with your guile and determination, you'd have made a remarkable Slytherin!"

Across the classroom, Peter looked at with surprise, and Lily dropped him a tiny wink and a smirk.

"Sorry, Professor," she told Slughorn with a rueful smile, halfway out the door, "I guess I just like lions better."

* * *

January passed: the snow around the castle melted, Quidditch went ahead full swing, Prefect meetings were called and attended. Voldemort and the Death Eaters' attacks flared up once more; she saw James' father's face emblazoned across the front page of the _Prophet_ alongside Bartemius Crouch, fighting for the Auror's use of Unforgivables in life-threatening instances. She and James 

continued to ignore each other, seamlessly controlling different parts of Prefect meetings and patrol rosters without ever actually consulting with one another.

And so life dragged on.

Lily's usual effervescence became noticeably subdued: she rarely spoke up in classes, didn't flirt with the boys around her, and her laughter was few and far between. Slughorn commented more than once on her lack of cheeky responses and chattering voice in the dungeons, and even McGonagall had thrown inquisitive looks at her. Lily ignored them all, concentrating on her school work: her grades had never been better, but Lily had never felt more like grabbing her RocketRacer and just getting the hell out of there.

But worst of all, the staring was now more obvious than ever: she could not pass him in the corridor, or sit near him in classes or at the Gryffindor table (something she avoided regardless) without her eyes being drawn to him, seemingly of their accord. She was like a moth to a flame. Ally had thankfully agreed to play arbiter, helpfully nudging Lily (or shoving, or propelling her through the nearest open door if she was really gawking) whenever she sidled into this daydream-like reverie. But Ally was not always there to help her, as at lunch that day. It certainly did not help matters that Lily had seen him naked more times than she could count, as this only spurred her already vivid imagination…

"Lily?" A voice startled her out of her musings; she jumped and blushed furiously as she was drawn back to earth abruptly, hoping to God no one was practicing Legilimancy on her at that point in time. Peter Pettigrew stood before her, smiling tentatively. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said automatically, then remembered herself and smiled. "And you?"

"Dying under the weight of my homework, but otherwise, fine," he said, seeming quite cheerful.

"Yeah, right," she said, rolling her eyes playfully, "wait till you get to seventh year. You won't know what hit you."

A few faces had turned their way, some curious, other suspicious, and still others downright unpleasant. It was almost like a pack of dogs, their hackles raised as they looked at Peter. His expression became uncomfortable, but Lily ignored them entirely.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked, clearing some space on the paper strewn table top for him. "I've just finished my Arithmancy essay."

He glanced around at the heads angled their way. "I'd – I'd better not," said Peter awkwardly. "I'm not sure I'd be so welcome on this side of the hall-"

"I don't care," she said stubbornly, letting her voice carry around her, though she addressed only him. "I told you, all this house rivalry crap is nonsense."

He smiled ruefully. "Maybe it is," he said sadly, looking around them, "but I still don't have a lion's courage, Lily." With one last sad smile, he left, walking rather dejectedly through the tall doors of the Hall. She turned back to the table, glaring frustratedly at the angry faces still angled her way.

"Bloody sorting hat," she mumbled to herself, stabbing viciously at her textbook. She raised her eyes to check the time on the clock above the Great Hall's doors; they were still looking. "What?" she snapped defensively, glaring around at them again. One face amongst the others stood out clearly; James looked at her, his face unreadable, but before she could even catch her breath, he was looking back at Sirius and Remus. Maybe he hadn't even looked at her; maybe this whole love-struck teenager disaster had sent her insane… she shook herself. Enough was enough. She gathered her books clumsily in her arms, sweeping out of the hall and away from prying eyes. It was only six floors up to her dormitory, into her trunk to grab her broomstick and out the window…

A slight but noticeable cheer, however, had begun to grow within the castle walls, despite the permanently grisly tidings of the _Daily Prophet_. A palpable excitement seemed to rage through the hordes of teenage girls – and, to a lesser extent, the boys also – as February, and Valentine's Day (a Friday, coupled with a trip to Hogsmeade the next day), approached.

The thought made Lily want to wretch. Only last week she'd watched, unable to tear her eyes away, as a giggling, blonde Hufflepuff fifth year (her name was Hallie, or something infernally stupid like that) flirted her way through breakfast with James. Only a steely resolve – and Ally's wand pointed permanently and firmly at her below the table – had kept Lily from cursing the girl's blonde locks into king cobras right then and there. By the time the bell rang to signal the start of their first class, Lily's cheeks were burned scarlett with fury and envy; the only advantage to this being, of course, that they were given a wide berth on their way to Charms, ensuring she didn't lose her badge for hexing anyone out of her way due to her limited patience. _Thank God_, she thought, settling into her desk and promptly turning to the window, _I don't have to put up with that every morning._

But fate seemed to playing a very cruel trick on her this year: everywhere she went, she saw him – always coupled with another girl, flipping her hair or fluttering her eyelashes or giggling at his most stupid comments or generally making Lily want to cast an Unforgivable. It was like some goddamn conspiracy, she realized viciously, after making a wrong turn on the way to Transfiguration and stumbling upon a sixth year Ravenclaw fawning over James bloody Potter. None of the girls she saw him with had red hair. _Wanker_.

She was, for the first time in her life, mostly oblivious to the male attention sent her way. February 10th found her stalking down a corridor on the fourth floor to get to Arithmancy, Gregory Roberts from Hufflepuff struggling to keep up with her furious stride. Though she had only spoken to him a few times before, she couldn't get past his likeness to a little puppy dog as he yapped on about something she wasn't listening to. As they turned into the side hallway nearest the Arithmancy classroom, she could see _him_ chatting to an annoyingly pretty Slytherin girl from their year, Lindsay Price, leaning nonchalantly against the corridor wall. She scowled, interrupting Gregory's spiel about God-knows-what with venom in her voice.

"God, look at that loser," she snapped. "Thinks he's the bloody king of the world, and _she_ is such a-"

"And so I was thinking," he had been saying, but stopped abruptly as she spoke up. "Lily – what?" he asked confusedly, then looked in the direction of her vicious glare. "Oh, yeah. I heard something about Lindsay Price asking Potter to the Valentine's Hogsmeade trip-"

"_What?_" she practically screeched, whirling around to look at Gregory's face and hardly caring that the entire waiting class had turned to see who had caused the disturbance. "She's _what?_

"Um, yeah," said Gregory, shifting uncomfortably and rubbing the back of his neck; he still looked like a confused puppy. "So, I was thinking, Lily, maybe you wanted to go to the Hogsmeade thing with me-"

"-that's just ridiculous, as _if_ James would go out with her, she's got a face like a Hippogriff's backside and a personality to match and she'd so not pretty at all and what the hell is she even _doing,_ asking him out, and you don't think she's pretty, do you?" Lily bit her lip anxiously and turned to Gregory again. Realization seemed to dawn on his face.

"On second thought," he said suddenly, "maybe I'll just see you there." He walked away quickly, over to where the other Hufflepuffs stood, leaving Lily standing alone to throw more scathing glares in the Head Boy's direction. Someone approached her from behind and tapped her shoulder; still seething, she began talking before she even whirled around again.

"Ally, I can't believe this, that stupid Lindsay Price is going to ask James-" she stopped. It wasn't Ally at all. Patrick Jameson, a handsome Ravenclaw, was smiling down at her charmingly.

"Lily, glad I caught you," he said smoothly, evidently not bothered by the fury written all over her face; Patrick seemed to be all business. "Listen, do you have a date for this weekend? Because if you don't, I'd like to take you. I think we could have a really nice time." He smiled charmingly again. Lily blinked at him.

"Um… no," she said, unable to summon any compassion to consider his feelings at this stage in her emotional welfare.

Patrick's expression only brightened. "You don't have a date? Excellent," he said briskly, misinterpreting her. "How about we meet in the Entrance Hall at, say, ten thirty? That would give us plenty of time to spend together."

"No, I mean no, as in, no," she said plainly (still no compassion, then). "I'm not going."

"You don't want to go with me?" He looked stunned. Lily rolled her eyes and turned back to where the rest of the class stood, craning her neck to see where James and Lindsay stood; she heard Patrick stalk off behind her, muttering angrily to himself. Oh, well, he would just have to - was she _touching his arm?_

The door to the class finally opened, and she swept past the others waiting and down to one of the very back desks, throwing herself into it with a huff. Stupid Lindsay, stupid James, stupid bloody Valentine's Day –

"Lily?" came a timid voice. She looked up furiously to see a weedy Slytherin boy she thought was named David. God, where was everyone's self-preservation these days? Couldn't they _see_ she was about to breathe fire? Did they _want_ to suffer through a Furnunculus Curse?

"Hi," he went on, still timid. "I'm Damien, Peter Pettigrew's friend?" She didn't respond, just looked at him blankly, and he hurried on. "Well, I just wanted to know if you were going with anyone to Hogsmeade this weekend? Because I thought, maybe, we could go together? If you want? I-"

"I'm not _going!_" she veritably shrieked. Half the class turned to look at them: Lily's expression mutinous; Damien looking as though he wished the floor would swallow him. She could see Lindsay – sitting next to James – looking over at her curiously and amusedly, but James hadn't even flinched at the hysterical tone of her voice. She glowered further.

"Right then," Damien muttered, and sped back to his desk at the front of the class. Some idiots in the front began to titter, but she shot quick, I'm-wishing-death-on-you glares at them and they immediately shut up. Lily sighed to herself as instantly regretted her bitchiness, especially towards Damien, who deserved it least of all. What kind of Head Girl was she? A demonic one, apparently.

Ally finally came in, looking bewildered at the circle of empty desks that surrounded Lily, and the pink-faced ferocity of Lily herself. Then her shoulders sank with comprehension.

"Merlin, Lily," she sighed, dropping into the chair beside her. "_Again_?"

"It's been one of those days, Al," she replied drily.

Ally rolled her eyes, already digging through her bag for her textbook. "Well, at least it looks like you didn't curse anyone," she muttered, flicking to the chapter they were currently studying.

"Didn't curse anyone _yet_," corrected Lily, and she actually managed a wry smile at this. Ally laughed grudgingly.

"So, about this weekend-" began Ally.

"If you ask me about Hogsmeade, I will hex _you_," Lily warned, and her friend rolled her eyes again.

"No, I mean the Charms assignment. Do you want to work on it at yours or in the library?" Professor Flitwick had set them their toughest assignment to date: to invent up their own charm. By the grace of Merlin, though, they'd been able to pick their own partners.

"That depends," said Lily slowly. "What day were you thinking of? Because I'm pretty sure _he'll_ be out of the dorm on Saturday-"

"Oh, that's right, James is going to Hogsmeade with Lindsay, isn't he? That'll make things – _silencio!_" she said hastily, just catching Lily before she screamed, right there in the classroom. "Merlin," said Ally again, watching half- stunned, half-curious, as Lily's face began to resemble a Grindylow's as she screamed silently. "It has been a bad day."

* * *

Valentine's Day dawned grey and chilly – the exact reflection of Lily's mood. She groaned and rolled out of bed, wandering into the empty common room. Morning had, however, recently become her favourite time of day: if she woke early enough, she could ensure that she would miss James by heading down to the Great Hall before he got in from his morning run. Lily yawned and slumped into a chair at the breakfast bar, her head falling into her open hand dejectedly as she stared out at the balcony windows. If the miserable, drizzling rain was anything to go by, today was going to be a truly awful day.

She made and drank a cup of tea before dragging herself back to her room, clambering into her cupboard. School clothes again; how exciting, she thought sardonically. She reached up to the very top rack to pull down a sweater –

Something very cold and very hard hit her on the crown of her head. Staggering a little, she glanced up stupidly to find the missile, before remembering herself and looking to the floor.

It was the silver and emerald hair pin James had bought her for Christmas. Her heart almost stopped at the sight of it. What on earth had it been doing up there? She'd not even seen it since they'd returned to Hogwarts – obviously an oversight on her part (it _had_ cost several thousand pounds, she remembered guiltily). She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It really was beautiful… it was a shame she'd not had a chance to wear it…

Today was Valentine's Day, she realized with a rush, maybe if _he_ saw her wearing it, he'd finally recognize she really did love him… it was foolish, stupid even, but it was the only plan she had… and she was desperate enough, at this stage, to try anything…

She took a breath and pulled her hair back on one side, sliding the clip in place. Even in the dim light of the cupboard it sparkled, its emerald stones matching her own green eyes almost exactly. Lily stared at her reflection, wondering if this could work… could it possibly help, in any way…

But as he finally took his place at the Gryffindor table – hair still wet from the shower – as their eyes met for the first time in a week, his glance froze on the clip for only a second before he turned away once more. Her heart sank.

"Lily? Hello?" Ally was saying as owls fluttered down all around, clutching scrolls in pinks and reds. Her eyes followed the direction of Lily's shattered gaze and she winced with understanding. "Oh."

The rest of the day dragged on. James didn't look at her once. Lindsay sat next to him in Transfiguration and Ancient Runes. Lily's anger had disappeared, and in its place lay a terrible, devastating sadness.

All this time… she'd always believed that he would eventually realize… her heart and throat constricted painfully. Even the signal she'd tried to convey with the hair pin had been coldly rebuffed, just as he'd rebuffed her by the Quidditch pitch and after she'd hidden in the invisibility cloak. By some form of horrifically ridiculing irony, Professor Harrow chose that day to introduce them to the Patronus Charm in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Lily had known instantly she'd have no chance of producing the desired effect from the second he'd described the happy, positive memory needed to conjure one's Patronus, and sighed dejectedly as he cleared their desks to create room for practice. She scurried over to a dark corner, away from the others and especially from James, muttering pathetically in an attempt to look busy.

"_Expecto Patronum_," she tried glumly. "_Expecto Patronum_…"

She was not the only one having difficulties. Lily looked up fifteen minutes later to see that no student had progressed beyond producing a light, vapory mist. Her eyes met with James' again, and his gaze held hers once more before flickering away as suddenly as it caught her own. She sighed to herself, looking out the window. It really was terrible weather, all grey and miserable and so cold it looked as though it might snow again… she thought of Christmas Day, tobogganing with James in the beautiful, untouched powder; unwrapping presents; his face when he'd read the inscription she'd surprised him with on the watch…

The memory burst, clear as day, into her mind; seized with inspiration, she raised her wand: "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A doe, beautiful and innocent, burst free from the end of her wand. It raised its head to her hand as she stared, captivated by it, and nudged her hand so that she was almost patting it. She let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh; for the first time, she noted the drop in noise around her and glanced up to see the rest of the class staring at her.

"Oh, well done, Miss Evans!" cried Harrow excitedly, watching the doe as it began a slight canter around the class.

"No – way," she heard Sirius croak; confused, she looked over to where he stood with James and Remus, all of them looking on it disbelief.

"I don't believe it," Remus said in a half-whisper, awe evident in his voice. Lily frowned, bewildered.

"What?" she asked, semi-defensively.

"I-" he began, but he broke off and looked, still stunned, at James. She very unwillingly turned her eyes to him once more.

He was staring at the doe, a bizarre mix of anger, disbelief, exhilaration and downright astonishment muddling his features. Then, before she could even question his odd reaction, he turned on his heel and strode away, the door to the classroom slamming shut behind him with a deafening bang.

The sudden noise seemed to reawaken the rest of the shocked class. A gaggle of excited noises and enquiring faces broke out around her.

"Wow, Lily! Is it always a doe?"

"How long have you been able to do it?"

"Do you think it'd let me touch it, too?"

She could only stare, totally dazed and confused, at the door James had left through. Eventually she regained enough motor control to turn back to Remus and Sirius, both of whose faces still registered evident shock and amazement.

"What-?" she asked again, cutting herself off as she realized she had no idea how to finish that question.

Remus half-glanced at Sirius, who shook his head insistently; her frown of confusion deepened. She opened her mouth to speak again –

The bell rang.

"Class dismissed, then!" called Harrow. "We'll try again tomorrow – oh, Miss Evans," he said, remembering, "take thirty points for Gryffindor. Excellent work, indeed."

She nodded dazedly, gathering her books and making her way out the classroom with disinterest. Half-way out the door, she looked back, realizing she hadn't even looked for the doe on her way out, but it had long since vanished. It felt almost as though a friend had left her. Her shoulders slumped as she emerged into the corridor where Ally and Frank waited.

"That was a really cool bit of magic, Lily," commented Frank, flashing her a grin. She attempted a smile – more like a grimace, really – and Ally gave her a sympathetic look.

"Do you want to just go straight down to dinner?" her friend asked thoughtfully. "Then we could go to the library or just head back to Gryffindor tower-"

"No, it's okay," said Lily, "I'm not really hungry. I think I might just go to bed. I'm fine," she assured Ally, who continued to look worried. "Fine. Just tired."

"Well… okay then," agreed Ally, biting her lip. "If you're sure-"

"Really. You two go and enjoy your Valentine's Day," she told them. "Someone around here ought to." She smile-grimaced again, waved once, and turned, heading in the opposite direction to almost everyone else in the corridor. Maybe if she did go to sleep, she would wake up tomorrow and this would hurt just a little less…

She barely noticed the walls slipping past her as she trod the now-familiar path. Before she knew it, she was in front of Sir Cadogan, his armour suit decorated with pink and red paper hearts from the portrait of a fat little cherub, three floors down.

"Password?" he asked gruffly, inspecting her.

"Love lurgy," she muttered dejectedly, caught between rolling her eyes at the stupidity of his password and breaking into fresh sobs at the painful lump in her throat caused by the 'l' word. She settled with heaving another sigh, climbing through the portrait hole and slinging her heavy book bag to the floor near the bookcase. It was much warmer in here, and she hurried over to the fire, glancing up to look out the balcony windows – maybe it was snowing now…

A dark, tall figure blocked her view of the darkening, almost-night sky. James stood alone outside, pacing up and down along the balcony despite the bitter cold. She made no sound, but he seemed to sense her presence regardless; for the third time that day, her eyes met his.

As his gaze bore into hers, Lily felt her feet moving of their own accord. She was like a moth drawn to the flame; James would burn her, as he already had, and she knew it, but the pull she felt towards him was irresistible. Suddenly she was stepping out onto the cold balcony to meet him, shutting the door quietly behind her. His eyes had not left her face once.

Lily turned slowly. His face was half-hidden in the darkness, and there was barely a moon to speak of to illuminate the balcony. James' dark eyes seemed more foreign, more unreadable, than they had ever felt to her before.

His voice was quiet, and somewhat odd-sounding. "A doe, then?"

"Apparently so." She still had no idea why this was of such significance, but his frown deepened a little all the same.

"And the hair pin," he said, his tones deep and slow. "You wore it."

She could think of no answer to this. Lily settled for nodding silently, watching his face. She'd never been able to read him, and she never would, but she could not take her eyes from him as he stood before her. A minute passed in silence, just them, the dark sky, and the increasing cold she could no longer feel.

"Do you mean it?"

"Mean what?" she asked breathlessly. They were getting close now, she could feel it.

"Do you-" He broke off, and for the first time a note of disquiet crept into his voice. "Do you really love me?"

"Yes," she answered simply; it was, she knew, all he needed to hear. Her heart thumped wildly as he frowned again, apparently musing this. God, she could kill him for doing this to her, for unhinging her so completely. What _was_ he thinking? He began to speak again, and so desperate to hear his answer was she that Lily almost stopped breathing.

"I thought I was so smart," he said slowly, almost as though he could barely understand his own words, "not to fall for your act like every other male in this castle." He sounded frustrated. "But even though I could see right through you-" her heart clenched painfully again "-I still couldn't help falling for you."

He turned to her, and she was shocked to see the wry smile now on his face. Had he just said what she thought he had?

"Lily, I've been an idiot," he said simply, reaching forward to grab her hand; her heart thumped like it had been electro-shocked; every hair on her body stood on end. "I was too proud, and too stupid. I was just like you." He smiled, and her breath caught in her throat. "Can you forgive me?"

She swallowed. "I think I might be able to manage it," she told him breathlessly. He smiled once more, and she actually felt her knees weaken. His arms were around her instantly.

"Good," he said, bringing a gentle hand up to the side of her face. "Because I'm in love with you, too."

And then he kissed her.

(For real this time.)

**THE END**


End file.
